


Silver

by N3kkra



Series: Skyrim [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Betrayal, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Infiltration, LOTS of blood and killing, Lies, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9506621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N3kkra/pseuds/N3kkra
Summary: Neriasa Salvori was just getting used to being a member of the Silver Hand when she received the order to infiltrate the Companions of Jorrvaskr. It was supposed to be an easy enough job. Get in. Act like one of them. Get them to trust you. And when the Silver Hand is ready, help them hit the wolves where it hurts the most.But Neri didn't expect to find in the Companions the only thing she wants in life.The Circle isn't a pack of wolves, it's a family, and they take care of their own. And now Neri is one of them.





	1. Silver in Eye and Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your form is novice,” he sighed looking bored. “Who trained you?”
> 
> “I’m self taught,” she breathed and stood up. She grabbed her axe and frowned at him.
> 
> “I can tell,” his brows pulled together. “We don’t have time to train you how to fight. You have to know how to do that before you get here.”

**Neri**

            The air was crisp, more so than usual, and it stung Neriasa’s eyes. She blinked against the burn and resisted rubbing at them. The cold had always been one of her least favorite things. As a dark elf, she preferred fire and heat. But those words would never leave her lips, not while these die-hards surrounded her.

            A harsh wind rolled over the hills and crashed into the keep, sending up new waves of snow, covering Neri and her fellow guard. Annoyance filtered up through her, boiling her skin, and she closed her eyes to keep from screaming. The only thing she wanted to do was go inside and warm herself beside a fire.

            “Elf.”

            The word perked her ear, and she turned to see Jamir in the doorway. He grinned at her and stepped aside, allowing her to enter. She could already feel the fire, and didn’t hesitate as she abandoned the other guard to the freezing hell, and found her sanctuary.

            “Finally,” she breathed and rubbed her stiff gloves together.

            “Don’t be such a milk drinker,” Jamir chuckled and she sighed.

            “We don’t all have nord blood to warm our bones,” came her reply and she settled in the chair beside the fire. Neri removed her leather helmet and let it drop to the ground beside her. The son of Skyrim stepped up behind her and placed his hot hands on her neck, warming her. With a sigh, she looked up at him and he shifted a brow at her suggestively.

            “We could always do other things to warm you up,” he tried.

            “If only you had a room of your own we could retreat to,” she sighed and shook her head, freeing herself of his touch. She was playing hard to get, but that was mostly because she didn’t know for sure if she wanted him. Sure, he was a strong, able-bodied, nord man, but she was sure he had been hit in the head a few too many times. Not to mention he didn’t have much to look at. His eyes were dull brown, and his hair was a dusty blonde. He could barely grow a beard, and he reeked of horse dung.

            But he was sweet on her, and that always made for nice company.

            “Awe, don’t be like that, Neri,” he leaned down so that his face was close to hers. She sighed and averted her eyes to the fire she had been missing.

            “I will be just this way,” she confirmed and sighed, kicking her boots off to push her toes nearer to the flames.

            “I never understood how you blue-skins can be so close to the fires,” a deep, orc voice shook Neri’s spine, and she straightened up.

            “Sir,” she stood up and bowed her head. Jamir also inclined his head out of respect for their leader.

            “Please,” he waved at them, and then focused on Neriasa. “I have a mission for you, it’s very important.”

            “Of course,” she nodded.

            “We’ve received words that the Companions of Jorrvaskr are accepting new blood. This is our time to infiltrate them and get a man on the inside. I have decided it will be you,” he waved to her and her brows leapt.

            “Me? But… why?”

            “They don’t know you as a Silver-Hand. They don’t have your scent. The werewolves won’t suspect you, so long as you play the part well,” he added and she nodded her understanding.

            “Yes, yes, of course, I’ll… I’ll pack,” she started to leave and he shook his head.

            “No, buy new supplies, and scarcely, we don’t need them catching onto this.” His heavy brow narrowed. “All it takes is one slip up and they will kill you. No hesitation.”

            “Yes, I understand,” she breathed and ran a hand through her red hair.

            “Say your good byes, you will not be able to make contact with a Silver-Hand safely for some time,” his narrowed eyes flickered to Jamir, before returning to her and he nodded his head in dismissal. “When you’re done, I expect you to head out.”

            “Of course, sir,” she watched him leave, and turned to the nord beside her.

            “Don’t suppose we could make a quick run to somewhere alone…” he sighed and she smirked at him.

            “Nope. I have to get going,” she pulled her boots on and frowned. Coin was going to be a problem since being a Silver-Hand didn’t pay as well as being a bandit, and in these parts, that was enough to leave you starved.

            “You’ll do great, Neri,” Jamir said suddenly. She glanced at him and realized he must have thought her frown was in doubt of her mission. “Just… remember, they’re all children of Hercine and should be put down like the dogs they are.”

            She nodded and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Jamir, I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget.”

            “You won’t be able to keep your silver weapons… but I want you to keep your dagger, the one you keep in your boot.” She always kept a silver dagger in her boot. It was a small thing, barely long enough to penetrate a heart, but she knew she could get it in if the circumstances were right. “Promise me you’ll use it if one of those dogs get too close to you.”

            “Promise, now, you going to let me go? Or do I have to use it on you?” she tilted her head playfully, but he sighed and allowed her to leave so she could prepare for her trek south to Whiterun.

 

 

            Whiterun Hold was far warmer than The Pale, especially when you got to the city of Whiterun. There wasn’t a single flake of snow to be seen in at least a half-day’s journey, and Neriasa couldn’t have been happier. Since she was forced to walk the whole way, she had time to get the scent of her people off of her.

            Neri was new to the Silver-Hand, which made her great for this mission, but it meant she’d never actually seen a werewolf in human form. At least, to her knowledge. She didn’t know how you could tell just by looking at someone, or if there was a way. She hadn’t been told, her training was far from complete, but she had, some how, been trusted with this mission.

            The city of Whiterun was a sight she had seen twice in her life, and it meant that now, with a new purpose bringing her here, she stood frozen in place. That was, until an earth shattering call tipped her over. Neri’s eyes leapt to the sky as the thunder clapped, and it sounded like voices echoed on the wind, but she had no idea the words that were spoken.

            “Excuse me,” a woman grunted, pushing passed her as she ran toward the city. She was a tall, nord woman with brown hair like new tree bark, and skin lightly tanned by the sun. She was wearing simple steel armor with a sword on her back and axe on her hip.

            Neri wet her lips and continued up the road behind the woman who looked like she was either running from something, or in a great hurry. By the time Neri made it over the bridge and through the main gate, she could no longer see the nord.

            Whiterun was built of cobblestone with huge walls that have protected it for centuries. It also had several rivers running through it, giving it a beautiful, lively look. But it was nothing like the water falls in Markarth. She had only been to the City of Stone once, but she knew she would remember it forever.

            As she made her way through the streets, Neri got distracted by the sweet smells of the market, and ended up there looking over the treats stand. She didn’t have gold for it, but she would have killed for a sweet roll. It didn’t take long for her to realize she was stalling, and the dark elf frowned to herself. She suddenly wished she was back at Driftshade Refuge with Jamir, in the cold.

            The stairs to the wind district felt long, but were decorated with colorful plants and water rolling down trenches on either side. Neri didn’t let it distract her, instead, she continued on ahead, around a large tree that looked rather dead, and up several more stairs to the massive mead hall known as Jorrvaskr.

            It was a huge thing, and from what she’d heard, the oldest building in the city. She wet her lips before approaching the door and letting herself in.

            Immediately, Neri was bombarded by smells and sounds. It was a dimly lit space, but the sound of fighting and the smell of an over sized fire were the most prominent. Then she realized the fighting were two Companions sparing, and the fire was in a pit surrounded by a massive feast filled table.

            Neri’s eyes locked on the sparing pair: a dark elf male and nord woman. They were skilled, and the fight went on, both bloodying the other to the point that a winner wasn’t clear. That was until the woman threw her fist right into the elf’s jaw and he hit the ground with a heavy thud. Disappointment for her fellow elf prompted her to look around at the men and women who now seemed to notice she did not belong here. A man in armor she’d never seen before stepped up to her.

            The armor was steel with black fur lacing it, and a wolf guarding his throat. He was an older nord with two red battle lines on each cheek. His white hair was receding and left his face easy to read, even as only one of his eyes was good, the other scarred and left white.

            “What is it that you seek here?” he asked, his voice low.

            “I heard the Companions were accepting new blood, I came to prove my worth and join,” she breathed, standing straighter. His good eye searched her, and he gave her a nod.

            “Speak with Kodlak Whitemane, down in the lower level. The stairs are over there. He will decide if you are worth our time.” He sidestepped, allowing her to pass, and she nodded.

            “Thank you.”

            “Do not thank me until you have been accepted, whelp.”

            She frowned once her back was to him. Neri went from being new in one place to new in another, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a sigh, she descended the stairs into the basement of the mead hall.

            It was ornately decorated with flags and rugs, heavy tables and bookshelves over flowing with food and documents. She let her eyes linger on all the supplies that just sat out. It was nothing like what she had back with the Silver-Hand. This looked… so nice. It made home look like a bandit camp.

            “…but I still hear the call of the blood,” a voice down the hall touched Neri’s ear. It was a deep voice with a thick nord accent, more than Jamir’s. She followed it, hearing an older, gruffer one reply.

            “We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome.”

            Neri came to the double doorway that lead into a sitting room where two men sat across from each other, both dressed in the same armor as the man who pointed her down this way. The one speaking was white haired, with braids running down the sides of his long locks, and had thick beard guarding his neck and hiding the wolf of his armor. The other was a man, yes, but a younger one, maybe a fist full of years older than Jamir, and far more interesting looking.

            The younger man spoke, his pale eyes flickering to her briefly, but held no interest as he continued to speak with the older man. His hair was cropped short to his chin and swept back from his face, and his jaw was shadowed with a ghosting of hair. Those pale eyes popped against the dark paint that was fading away from his eye sockets. She swallowed, and forced herself to look back at the older man. “You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don’t know if the rest will go along quite so easily.”

            “Leave that to me,” the white haired one comforted. He was sitting so that Neri was in his blind spot, but when the younger one’s eyes flickered to her again, more out of annoyance at her lingering this time, he turned. She met his gaze for a moment and saw a second of shock widen his eyes. “A stranger comes to our hall,” he turned to greet her more directly now.

            Neri stepped forward, avoiding acknowledging the younger one’s presence. “I am Neriasa Salvori, and I wish to join the Companions.”

            “Would you now?” he seemed amused, but not surprised. Then he stood. “Here, let me look at you.” Neri remained still as he circled her, and she had a brief moment of realization at how animalistic it was.

            Like a wolf circling a rabbit. She’d been told the Companions were werewolves, but not all of them. Were the ones in the wolf armor the only ones? She wet her lips and glanced at the young one who was glaring at her. She could see him being a wolf, his eyes were silver, like the blade in her boot meant to be plunged into his heart if she felt threatened by him. The way his brows hung over his eyes, the way he watched her while she shifted where she stood, it screamed wolf.

            “Hmm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit,” the old man was saying, drawing her red eyes away from the silver ones.

            “Master, you’re not truly considering accepting  _her_?” the young one’s nose wrinkled, and she couldn’t help but look at his teeth, seeing how they fit in his mouth different than they should.

            “I am nobody’s master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts,” the old man returned to his chair and leaned in to speak to the younger one.

            “Apologies. But perhaps this isn’t the time. I’ve never even heard of this outsider,” he complained halfheartedly. She felt a wave of relief at his words, but then realized it was meant as an insult.

            “Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame,” the old man, Kodlak –it had to be– shrugged. “It makes no difference. What matters is their heart,” he met her gaze, and she felt a strange sense of… relief.

            Then Vilkas spoke, “And their arm.”

            She winced, but tried to hide it, acting like she was just brushing her hair from her eyes.

            “Of course. How are you in battle, girl?”

            She cleared her throat and offered a modest shrug. “I have much to learn. Anyone who thinks they don’t is a fool.”

            Kodlak seemed to like that. He grinned and nodded. “Yes, a good mindset to have. This is Vilkas. He will test your arm. Vilkas, take her out to the yard and see what she can do.”

            His arms, she now realized, were crossed over his chest, and his silver eyes locked on her. “Aye,” he breathed and stood, dropping his hands to his side. He was a large man, larger than Jamir, and taller. Neri stood to his chest, barely, her face just below the plates over his pecks. How she always hated nords and their height, but now, as he pushed passed her as if she were nothing, she decided she hated this particular nord more than the others. She decided if her wolf theory was right, she would kill him first chance she got.

            “Come on, whelp, the yard is outside,” Vilkas called over his shoulder when he realized she was standing there, staring after him stupidly.

            Neri frowned and fell in step behind him. The yard was a cobblestone lawn with practice dummies for sword and archery. Braziers were waiting on either side and under the awning to light the area once night fell. An awning covered tables lined with food and drink that was currently been snacked on by a few faces she didn’t know. To her surprise, none of them wore the wolf armor.

            “The old man said to have a look at you, so let’s do this,” Vilkas said suddenly and turned on her, picking up an iron sword and shield from beside a practice dummy. He held them well, but somewhat awkwardly, which surprised her. “I need to see your form. Don’t worry, I can take it,” he grinned at her, and she saw the wolf in it, how his lips curled over his teeth.

            She nodded, and pulled her axes from her hips and readied herself to defend or attack, depending on the move he made. Vilkas held his shield up and the sword behind it, ready like an Imperial soldier, while she swayed back and forth like a forsworn native. Then he lashed out, and she knocked the iron away, her steel axes clashing against the other metal. Before he could recover, she spun around and aimed for the back of his armor, where it looked the thickest, and struck him twice, once with each axe. He grunted, and turned on her, swinging his shield out so that it smacked her.

            Neri stumbled and he took the chance to jab the sword forward, hitting her in the sternum where her leather armor was thick. She glared and swung her axes to knock his blade away and he smirked at her. This time when she went in, she faked left, and swung right so that his shield opened and left him exposed. When the curve of her axe struck his chest he stumbled back, and his breath left him. She smiled and stepped back, allowing him to gather his thoughts.

            “Come on, don’t let me put you on your back,” she taunted and he narrowed his silver eyes at her.

            When he came at her this time she regretted her words. He didn’t normally use one-handed weapons, she could tell that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to use it brutally. Vilkas threw his shield into her, knocking her back, and he hit her with the flat of the blade in her thigh, causing her to yelp, then got her arm, and she dropped her axe in surprise, her bare skin immediately turning bright red with the bruise that was going to form. Then he got her with his shield again, and she fell back onto her ass, her breath leaving her.

            “Your form is novice,” he sighed looking bored. “Who trained you?”

            “I’m self taught,” she breathed and stood up. She grabbed her axe and frowned at him.

            “I can tell,” his brows pulled together. “We don’t have time to train you how to fight. You have to know how to do that before you get here.”

            “I know how to fight,” she glared at him. “Let’s go again, I’ll show you,” she waved her axe for him to prepare himself. The young man sighed, his silver eyes checking the sky before returning to her.

            This time she struck first, leaping forward so she could rain her attacks down on him. He wanted to see what she could do? Well, now that he didn’t have surprise, she could repay his gift to her. And oh did she. Her axes caught his armor, cutting lightly at the thinner parts, and the handle blunting against his muscled bicep –which was protected with only a few layers of cloth– to give him welts. He hissed and she saw a fire catch his silver eyes, and draw his lips back over his teeth. He was getting angry, but so was she.

            Neri spun when he sent the weapon forward in a quick thrust. He only had a handful of moves with this weapon, but he knew how to use them. If she had to fight him with a weapon he was good at, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

            Vilkas’s boot shot out and caught her foot, sending her rolling, but she caught herself, and crossed her axes above her to protect her from getting his sword right down on her neck. Her red eyes locked on his silver ones and he withdrew his sword. “Not bad,” he said, sounding like he was breathing quickly. “Next time won’t be so easy,” he added and walked over to one of the dummies. “You might just make it. But for now, you’re still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you.”

            Neri didn’t like the sound of that.

            Vilkas grabbed a long, two-handed sword that had been resting against the wall behind the dummies. By the nine, he was a two-handed warrior. She swallowed, looking at him more wearily now. “Here’s my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it’s probably worth more than you are,” he added and held it out to her. She put away her axes and took the heavy steel weapon. It was an odd steel, more silver than it should have been with unique carvings in it. It was… beautiful.

            “Um, who’s… Eorlund?” she lifted a brow at him and his silver eyes searched her face for a moment, seeming like he was deciding between helping her or making her figure it out.

            “He is the smith of the Skyforge,” he gestured passed her, and she looked up on the hill overlooking Jorrvaskr. “Bring me the blade when it’s done,” Vilkas added and took his leave of her.

            Neri swallowed and looked at the weapon before heading up toward the Skyforge.


	2. Crimson Blood in Ashen Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whelp’s scent reached him before he heard the knock. She wasn’t quiet, he could hear her coming toward his room, and ask around to find out which of the doors belonged to him, but she hesitated there, on the other side of the wood. It was then that he could smell the fear and exhaustion that came from the whelp. The fear was the interesting part. Of course he could be wrong, but he’d gotten good at distinguishing that smell from others, it was like no other, because it had a sweetness to it. It sickened him how he enjoyed the smell.

**Vilkas**

            The book fell onto the floor and Vilkas sighed. Briefly he considered leaving it there, but he walked over and picked it up, placing it more carefully on the stack he’d originally intended it land on. He needed to clean the place up, and get some sort of order going. For Ysgramor’s sake Farkas’s room was spotless.

            He wasn’t in the mood, though, he needed to get out of his armor and nurse the wounds that whelp had given him. His jaw clenched. She’d nearly had him during that second round, and half of Jorrvaskr was out there watching. Vilkas kicked his door shut and locked it, the last thing he needed was the whelp to show up with his sword when he was undressed.

            The armor was fine, only needing a little mending in the arms and a fresh cleaning, but his skin was singing a different song. Blood was gently dripping from his bicep, but not enough to concern him. He lifted his arm and flexed it, testing the muscle to see what pain was summoned. The bruising was the worst of it.

            He sighed and grabbed a blue mountain flower and bit the petals from the stem. After a moment of chewing he gathered the mush at the front of his teeth and then pressed it into his wound with his opposite hand. Right away, the pain and sting subsided and he closed his eyes in a moment of relief.

            Once his wounds were closed, Vilkas got up and started straightening his books. He wished he could keep his room clean, but the damn thing seemed to work against him. Honestly if he didn’t trust his shield-siblings with his life, he’d swear one of them was coming in and disturbing the place.

            A knock on the door, brought Vilkas to the present and he pulled on a pair of trousers and a light shirt, as he wasn’t intending on leaving his room for the rest of the night. Barefooted, he walked over and unlocked the door, he knew who it was before he opened it though, her scent filtering through the door pleasantly. His shoulders relaxed and she smiled up at him.

            “Tilma…” he sighed.

            “Vilkas,” she lifted a stack of neatly folded clothing. “I finished cleaning these, they were lying beside your bed.”

            “Thank you,” he took them and stepped aside to allow her in.

            “Oh, good, you cleaned, I was just about to pick up for you,” she commented offhandedly, and sat down in a chair at the corner table. “Have you seen the new girl? She seems sweet.”

            Vilkas tucked the clothes into his dresser, not bothering with sorting them. “Sweet is never a word to describe a Companion, Tilma.”

            “Not a Companion of Jorrvaskr, maybe, but there are other sorts of companions, Vilkas,” the old woman gave him a suggestive smile and he sighed.

            “I only need the Companions of Jorrvaskr,” he gestured to the door. “Why don’t you bless Farkas with your wishes of grandchildren?”

            Tilma wasn’t his real mother, but she was the closest thing to it he and his brother had. She treated them like her sons as well, and sometimes it embarrassed Vilkas. Like now.

            “Farkas is a simple man,” she sighed and closed her eyes in faint annoyance. “A woman would have to approach him for him to realize her interest.”

            “Dragons have returned, anything is possible,” Vilkas offered and grabbed the ale he had sitting on the table.

            “Including you bringing more pitter-pattering paws to Jorrvaskr,” she stood, using the table to stabilize herself. “I miss the sounds of children since your brother and you have grown.”

            “So I must be the one to please this desire of yours?” he cocked a brow at her and she sighed, resting a hand on his chest.

            “You are my son, in my eyes at least,” she smiled up at him and he saw there was pain in the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “I only want what is best for you.”

            Vilkas nodded and sighed, gently taking the smaller woman in an embrace and resting his forehead against hers. “I see you as my ma, Tilma, do not worry about that. But I will not settle on a woman.”

            “Never settle, but don’t push away happiness,” she added and patted his chest. “I must tend to Farkas’s clothes, the boy refuses to take the roads and I have to wash more than blood out of the cloth,” she sighed.

            “Aye,” he watched her leave and closed the doors behind her. _Every_ woman Tilma saw was a potential spouse for him. Farkas never got these talks from her, and for that, he envied his brother.

            With no other responsibilities for the night, Vilkas took a book from his shelf and sat on his bed, flipping through it. He could feel the burn in the back of his mind, calling him to the chilling air outside as night approached. It was like something was pulling him, and he resisted standing up, knowing if he allowed that much, he would be out in the moonlight before he knew what happened.

            The whelp’s scent reached him before he heard the knock. She wasn’t quiet, he could hear her coming toward his room, and ask around to find out which of the doors belonged to him, but she hesitated there, on the other side of the wood. It was then that he could smell the fear and exhaustion that came from the whelp. The fear was the interesting part. Of course he could be wrong, but he’d gotten good at distinguishing that smell from others, it was like no other, because it had a sweetness to it. It sickened him how he enjoyed the smell.

            While they sparred she had smelled different than when she first came to speak with Kodlak. Her fear was the first thing he’d noticed about her, and he knew the old man could smell it on her as well. Why he allowed her to join them when she reeked like that was beyond him, but Kodlak had looked at her as… if he’d seen her before. It wasn’t his place to doubt the old man, so he kept any more of his opinions to himself. Her anger was similar to her fear, he’d noticed, while they sparred. He knew she was mad, but the scent had only made him grow wilder. Tilma was right. She was sweet. But in a sickening way to him.

            Before she finally knocked, he was there, standing with a hand on the lock. He turned it and pulled the door open, shifting the book closed. He needed to keep it in his hand, it was the only thing keeping him in the room, as the moon called to him outside, singing a lovely song.

            “I, uh, have your sword,” the dark elf said, her red eyes wide as she looked up at him. The weapon, if rested on the ground, would stand just taller than her, and it seemed to be hard for her to balance and hold. He gave her a nod and took it easily in a hand, knowing the weight so he could swing it around him and rest it on the table he had beside the door. She watched him and he noticed the smell of fear thickened.

            “Took you long enough,” he breathed, and she frowned at him.

            “I was not the one who sharpened it,” she glared at him and he caught the scent of anger. This made him tilt his head and her fear spiked again. “I, um,” she took a step back. “I should be going,” she took another step back and then left him, her sweet fear making his head light.

            Vilkas turned back to his room and looked at the book in his hand. He needed to kill something, not sit here and read. No… not just kill, he needed to eat something.

            _Feed_.

            A growl rumbled in his chest and Vilkas tossed the book toward the shelf and clenched his fists. He refused to use that word. That word meant giving in, and he wouldn’t do that. If Farkas could have such an easy time resisting, then he should as well.

            His jaw tightened and he felt the pain in his gums. The aching of hunger that wasn’t his own.

            Vilkas stood there, tense enough that he shook. He nearly forgot that he hadn’t shut the door when Farkas spoke up.

            “Brother.”

            The one word was enough to calm him and Vilkas turned to see his twin in the doorway. Vilkas reeked of hunger and anger, and he could tell by his brother’s face that he could smell it.

            “I am here if you need me,” Farkas breathed, and left him now that the trance was broken. He watched his brother open the doors to his clean room and step up to his bar, pouring himself a glass of liquor from a keg on his counter. That reminded him of the ale he had yet to finish.

            Vilkas gathered his drink and the book he’d abused and returned to his bed, sitting firmly in it so as to keep from being drawn back to his doors. He left them open as he slept that night, listening to the sound of his calm brother in his room. It comforted him, knowing Farkas was so close. Out of them all, he knew that Farkas would be there for him no matter what. And if he had to, he’d stop Vilkas before he did something he’d regret.

            Sleep found Vilkas, but it was not sound, and he woke several times to the crying animal within him, drawn to the moon outside.

 

 

            The whelp avoided him during her first week, and one morning he woke and she was nowhere to be seen. For a split second, he thought she might have quit. Anytime he passed her or entered a room she’d been in, he could smell her near-constant fear. It was no way for a Companion to act, and it only angered him more.

            She came through the front door of Jorrvaskr, then, with bloodied hands, interrupting his thoughts. She only looked at him for a moment when she passed him to go down the stairs. His silver eyes followed her, and he tilted his head at the lack of fear about her. She only smelled of the blood on her hands and… annoyance?

            Vilkas sat down at the large table in front of the fire, and grabbed some bread and meat to start his day. Farkas settled in beside him a few minutes later, smiling widely. He looked at his bother and lifted a dark brow, “What has you in such high spirits?”

            “The whelp took care of that bard in Riverwood,” he explained around a mouthful of bread. After he swallowed their silver eyes met, “She’s a good fighter, just needs better gear. Tilma is helping her with her wounds. Her hands are soft.”

            “Soft hands don’t last long here,” Vilkas breathed and glanced at his own, hardened front and back from years of this life style.

            “Aye, but work strengthens them,” Farkas said. His brother was always more forgiving than him. “She already has been assigned the wolf tormenting the farm north of here,” he bit off more bread and Vilkas frowned.

            “Has she been asking for these jobs?”

            “Aye,” Farkas nodded. “Eager, seems to want to be out there more than here. Who can blame her? Been too long since I’ve taken one of these simple jobs.”

            “Perhaps you should,” Vilkas sighed. “I have word of a kidnapped farmer in Markarth.”

            Farkas’s brows frowned. “Hate Markarth, the Reach is treacherous. Too easy to get lost.”

            “Shall I give it to the whelp and see if she can traverse the hills?”

            A hand clapped his shoulder and Vilkas looked up to meet Aela’s mischievous smile. “Why don’t you go with her? Show her the way, oh great one,” her red brow lifted and Vilkas frowned at her. “And before you say it, you aren’t needed here as much as you’d like to think.” Vilkas stood and she waved a hand at him.

            As if the gods had a sense of humor, the whelp passed them, headed for the door.

            “New blood,” Aela called and the dark elf stopped to look back at them, stiffening. “Change of plans. I’ll be taking the wolf. You are going to Markarth to find a kidnapped farmer.”

            “Oh,” her brows perked and she came over to them, standing shorter than them both. She was a small thing with red hair braided away from her face. Her flesh wasn’t as blue as most of her people’s, but took on a more ashen tone. She had big eyes, like a doe, but the color of blood, and it unsettled him. “Why the change?” she asked Aela.

            “You show a determination that I admire,” Aela said, and Vilkas resisted rolling his eyes and laughing. “Vilkas will be your shield-brother on this mission.”

            “I need a shield-brother?” her brows lifted and Aela glanced at Vilkas.

            “You’re leaving the hold, it’s always a good idea to bring a shield-sibling on long-distance jobs.”

            He could smell the pride rolling off of the huntress, and the sudden fear that fanned off of the dark elf. He looked at her and she averted her gaze. Aela’s silver eyes flickered to him briefly at the scent the whelp suddenly gave off. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that the fear was because of him, but he was just as confused as to why.

            “Okay, I guess we should pack some supplies,” the whelp started back toward the stairs and Vilkas narrowed his gaze at Aela.

            “Happy now?”          

            “When you return with the whelp in one piece, I will be,” she crossed her arms. “I do not like how you watch her. When was the last time you fed?”

            The hiss that escaped him left without his permission and he snapped his jaw tight. “Mind keeping your voice down?”

            “Only Farkas has ears like you and I here, answer my question,” she lowered her voice anyway. He sighed and ground his teeth together.

            “My brother and I are with the old man. We are doing our best to resist the call of the blood.”

            “Last week was a full moon, how did you fair?” He met her eyes and gave her the only answer she needed. “Don’t kill the whelp,” she sighed. “We need some fresh blood around here, and she has a heart I would like to see remain in her chest.”

            “I won’t be the cause of her death,” he swore and the huntress nodded.

            “If she does well with you, we may have a job for her when she returns,” Aela looked passed him at the food and then circled him. “You should pack, we won’t be expecting you back for a week.”

            Vilkas sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration before returning to his room to pack for the trip to the Reach. He actually enjoyed the City of Stone. And he always thought the dangerous hills and rushing falls were quite… beautiful, in a way. Unlike the flat plains of Whiterun hold. He liked the ability to see without being seen before charging in. It was the beast inside that drove him to that wish, he knew, but it didn’t change how comforted he was when he could leap from the shadows and bring down his prey with a single swing of his blade.

            It only took him a moment to pack a bag. The knapsack was fairly light as he only had a two health tonics and a book packed away. He needed to grab a few loaves of bread from the table upstairs once they were on their way out.

            “Brother?”

            Vilkas stiffened at the word and turned to see the dark elf at his door. His gaze narrowed when he saw she was looking around his room. Her lip quirked at his shelf of books and he frowned. She smelled normal, as if she had relaxed some since she left him and Aela. Her scent was actually fairly pleasant when it wasn’t sweetened by her emotions. Then her crimson eyes found his silver ones and the fear rolled off her in waves.

            “What is it?” he asked and she cleared her throat.

            “I was just wondering if you’d finished packing?”

            “Are you?” he picked up his knapsack and bedroll and stepped toward her so that she would back out of his doorway, then he blew out the candles lighting the space and closed his doors. He didn’t lock it, knowing Tilma would probably stop in and clean some.

            “Yes,” she threw her own bag and bedroll over her shoulder and he heard the clatter of bottles.

            “What are you bringing?” he asked and she frowned a little.

            “Healing supplies, a set of clothes, and some potions and poisons,” she shrugged and he felt like she was keeping something from him. He passed her and started for the stairs. The sooner they left the sooner they’d be done. It would be faster to take the cart, but he hated taking carts. He liked running across the plains.

            Once he had some bread and dried meat packed away he checked on the elf again. She was waiting for him by the door, speaking with Farkas. They were smiling and laughing about something. When he joined them they both quieted themselves and he noted she smelled of fear again, but that was before she saw him. She also feared Farkas? Even when they laughed together?

            “Are you ready, new blood?” he asked and she nodded.

            “Yes,” she glanced back at Farkas. “We’ll speak again when I return?”

            “Aye,” he nodded and then departed from them.

            “What were you two talking about?” Vilkas asked and opened the door for her to go on ahead of him.

            “Um,” she glanced at him sideways and he noted her cheeks growing red. If it was from his display of chivalry or from the conversation she had, he couldn’t be sure. “You and he,” she finally said as they passed the dying white tree in the Wind District outside Jorrvaskr. The priests in the temple needed to tend to it before it fell and killed someone.

            His brows rose at her. “What about me?”

            “He was explaining how you two are said to be like Ysgrammor, he in his strength, and you in his wit,” she explained. “And that some people don’t think he’s smart, those people get his fist.”

            Vilkas smiled at that, chuckling to himself. He didn’t miss how she perked at the sound; her face brightening slightly and the scent of her fear waned. He glanced sideways at her so that she couldn’t tell he was without looking up at him. The left side of her face was scarred, deeply, from several lines that came from her ear down her cheek to her lips. It almost looked like something caused by a wolf….

            They walked in silence out the front gate of Whiterun, following the road toward the stables. When they passed the cart in favor of the road and took the western path, the whelp said nothing, and continued at his side, her eyes on the road and fields. Her leather armor was average, and fit her small form fine, but Vilkas never saw use for the light armor. He preferred the heavy stuff that was better at protecting you.

            As they passed the Western watchtower they both paused to observe the dragon’s skeleton that rested on the side of the road. He faintly wondered what had happened to the creature to bring it to bone. They resumed their journey without a word, and Vilkas knew the trek would feel twice as long this way, but he didn’t see the need in engaging in idol chitchat with the whelp.

 

 

           They camped just off the road in the Reach. The City of Stone was less than a day away, but they had continued without rest and he could tell the whelp was exhausted despite her lack of complaint. He thought it admirable, and noticed her fear had nearly evaporated while they traveled. Now, as he threw together a fire and she put out bedrolls, she smelled like she had when she’d stepped into his room: normal.

            The elf sat down on her bedroll and watched him finish the fire. He frowned when her fear reached his nose and she began to fidget. Why was she so scared of him? It angered him that she was this way. He looked at her, eyes narrowed, and she averted her gaze, taking a particular interest in her bag as she shifted through it to find something to nibble on.

            Vilkas didn’t want to bring it up. She wasn’t a member of the Circle, so she had no knowledge of what he was. Explaining how he knew she feared him would be too difficult without simply saying he could smell it on her. So he kept quiet, sat on his bedroll, across the fire from her, and ate some of his dried meat.

            The elf went to sleep before him, promising to wake in a few hours so he could sleep and she could keep watch. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like the idea of sleeping around her, so he decided he would stay up tonight and when they made it to Markarth, he’d get a room at the Silver–Blood Inn.

            The night was quiet and Vilkas found it relaxing to recline and watch the stars. The air was clear, and the colors shone down on them, brightening the landscape. Secunda and Masser crossed over, chasing each other across the sky, entertaining him as he allowed himself to get lost in the severally slow crawl of the moons. They were shadowed, Secunda resting kindly in front of Masser like a lover or a child. They did not call to him now like they had last week. Being in the open air helped. He could breathe in the scents and mentally track the nearby game.

            The most distracting scent was also the closest, though. The whelp was giving off her fear again, which caused him to look her way. Her face was twisted, she was having a nightmare. This fear was different than the fear she had around him. It left a taste in his mouth that caused it to water. The sweetness before was nothing to the terror she was suffering from now.

            Vilkas jerked his head away and looked at the moons, whispering a curse to their beauty and what they did to him. The whelp didn’t deserve to be looked at like a meal, just as Aela had said. His lips pulled back over his teeth in a sneer and he sat up to tend the dying fire.

            “Brother?”

            Vilkas blinked and looked at the dark elf. “What is it?”

            She sat up slowly and looked around as if to fully remember where she was. “I was just checking.”

            “I’m still here,” he grunted, trying not to sound annoyed. She nodded and stood up.

            “I’ll be right back,” she sighed and left to do her business in the dark. She went a little farther away than she needed to. He tried not to think about it, and grabbed his bag to get something to eat.

            When she returned he avoided looking at her while she adjusted her armor. “If you’re ready, we can go ahead and leave.”

            “You’re not going to sleep?”

            “Not tired.” She frowned at him and he ignored her. “Eat something, and then we’ll continue.”

            The whelp decided on bread, and they got walking several hours before the sun came up. He was comfortable in the dark, as he could see just fine. His wolf’s blood was not always as bad as he made it out to be. In moments like this, when the whelp didn’t make his head light with her sweet fear and his abilities were more helpful than annoying, he regretted his wish to be rid of his inner beast.

            Vilkas stopped and looked around. The hills were silent in the morning light save the whelp behind him yawning. There was an abandoned cart in the crossroad up ahead with a chest resting in the back.

            “What is it?” the elf asked, her voice hushed as she stopped at his side. Her fear level was rather low, considering, and instead, she smelled… normal. Calm.

            “A trap,” he breathed and she narrowed her crimson eyes at the cart.

            He heard them before he saw them. Descending from the cliffs around them, seven bandits appeared, seeming to come right out of the rock face. Vilkas grabbed his sword from his back and the elf grabbed both of her axes. Without thinking, he engaged the ones on the right side of the road and ahead of them. He didn’t think about the elf, but as he cut down two men with a swing, he heard her cry from behind him accompanied by the blast of fireballs. There was a caster over there.

            There were three in her direction. He had two more here. His sword flew through the air with a practiced speed that the bandits hadn’t expected. The woman stopped his blade with her torso, spilling her bloody guts onto the road. Vilkas bared his teeth, his silver eyes locking on the tangle of red intestines and he resisted licking his lips.

            A man swung his mace, catching Vilkas’s distracted face, and knocked him sideways. He faintly was thankful he’d decided to wear his helm, but knew it didn’t protect him from all of the damage. He felt his blood drip down his cheek and neck as the bent guard on the helmet bit into his flesh and dug in deeper when he moved. Vilkas’s body grew hot and the beast threatened to erupt, but he shoved it down and tore his sword out of the woman’s body, spraying blood as he heaved the weapon around and bashed the mace wielder.

            The man was an orc, older, but skilled in combat. He lifted his mace, holding it with both hands to block Vilkas’s assault, but the nord was younger, more vigorous, and pissed with the backup of an inner animal that could tear this bandit in half with its bare claws. Gold flashed across the Companion’s eyes, and the orc wavered in confusion, opening up enough to allow Vilkas to bring his sword down, knocking the mace out of the way, then bringing it back up and turning the point. The blade slipped down into the orc’s body via his collarbone, right above his armor. There was no resistance from the bandit as the steel sunk deep, coming out down below to push him to his knees and press the point of the sword into the cobblestone.

            Vilkas stood over the orc, watching the veins in his neck pump, and the wound around his sword spray. This time, his tongue traced his lips without his permission, and the last thing the orc saw before dying, was a silver-eyed nord’s teeth grow in anticipation.

            A yelp drew him from his blood lust, and Vilkas turned to see the elf kick an archer off a ledge onto the road where he smacked his head hard enough to crack. Blood spattered weakly, and the man groaned. The elf stood on the edge of the cliff, where the archer had been and shifted a foot back as she turned her torso. It wasn’t until she released the axe that Vilkas realized she was throwing her weapon down at the bandit.

            The axe stuck in his torso with a sickly thud. Vilkas heard his heart burst, and felt his gums burn with want. When he tried to find the other two bandits, he was surprised to see them lying curled and burnt beside the road.

            When the whelp came down to his side, she ran her hand over her forehead to catch some sweat, smearing blood that coated her hands over her face, and looked at his handy work. “Looks as though we got them all.”

            “Did you do this?” he narrowed his eyes at her, feeling a wave of unease come over him. None of the Companions used magic. And if they did, it was few and far between, only for the times when a blade or arrow was useless. She should have been able to handle three bandits without magic.

            “I did,” she frowned at him. Anger mixed with confusion rolled off of her. She was growing defensive and her adrenaline was preventing her from resorting back to the fear she normally emitted around him.

            “I suggest you keep it to yourself. The Companions don’t use magic, we don’t need it,” he growled and her jaw clenched.

            “Yes, brother.”

            Vilkas nodded once and looked at the burnt corpses again. Her axe work was apprentice at best, but the fire she commanded was deadly. He tried not to think about that as he turned his back to her and put the bloody blade on his back, returning his attention to the bodies to see if they had anything useful before they continued to Markarth.


	3. Silver Threats and Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re asking for an accident, elf.”
> 
> “You’re looking for an ass kicking, nord,” she countered, her anger peaked.

**Neri**

            “You’re bleeding,” Neri breathed and ran up to his side. Vilkas was walking quickly; taking long strides she had to double or triple to match. Curse her short– no _curse his_ long legs. She was doing her best to keep up as she half jogged up the cobblestone road. “I can heal it.”

            “With your magic?” he scoffed and removed his helmet. Or… started to. It was stuck. The jaw guard was bent into his cheek, and when he couldn’t remove the thing he stopped in the middle of the road and she breathed in relief, coming up to look over his face.

            The helmet matched the rest of the wolf armor, and the jaw guards resembled that of a hound’s mouth with small teeth pointing up sharply. The one on the left side of his face was biting into his cheek, and every time his face moved he made the wound worse.

            “Yes, just let me help you.”

            “I’m fine, whelp,” he growled, showing his teeth at her. Neri took a step back and felt her heart stop. There was no doubt in her mind now that he was a wolf. It was almost screaming at her as his silver eyes locked on her, his nostrils flared, and his lips curled back over his teeth. He was like a wounded animal in a corner, prepared to strike if she got near again.

            She nearly shook with her terror. He could kill her out here and no one would ever know. Jamir? The other Silver-Hand? They’d just find someone else to replace her. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t _necessary_. She was convenient.

            A flash of gold reflected in his eyes and he snapped his lips shut, looking away from her. His hands balled up into fists and Vilkas took a long breath. “I don’t need your help, new blood,” he finally said and started walking again, taking it slow now as he attempted to work the helmet off his head.

            Neri swallowed and fell into step behind him, trying to stop her shaking. She needed to get a hold of herself. He had no reason to attack her… yet. There was no way for her to know if her figuring out he was a werewolf was all the reason he needed, though. She could play dumb –at least until he made faces like that.

            If only she wasn’t so scared of them. Maybe if she would have told someone what happened she could still be in the safety of Driftshade– no. She needed to be here, doing this, facing her fear of them. It was why she joined the Silver-Hand in the first place.

            “Whelp.”

            Neri looked up and noticed Vilkas had stopped again. He sat down on a rock on the side of the road and waited for her. She ran up to him and stopped a few feet away. “Yes, Brother?”

            “Get this damned helmet off me,” he grunted and tilted his face upward so she could see it better. His eyes were closed, and his expression was relaxed –though it looked a bit forced.

            She stepped forward and stood so that she was nearly touching him. Sitting down he was nearly as tall as her, and it made her heart hammer hard in her chest. Her hands began to shake as she lifted them to assess the best way to get the guard out of his cheek. He was such a large man, bigger than most of the nords even at Driftshade Refuge, and –based on the scars on his face alone– had far more fighting experience.

            Neri wet her lips nervously and finally took hold of the guard. “I’ll, uh, I’ll have to heat it up to bend it back.”

            His eyes flashed open and she nearly jumped. The silver held its own glow by how it reflected any and all light around it. In the dim of Jorrvaskr she could see them from an unnatural distance. And it wasn’t just him; his brother, Farkas; the man who had pointed her to Kodlak, Skjor; the huntress, Aela; and even the old man himself, Kodlak. They all shared those silver eyes, and all but Aela wore the wolf armor.

            “I can bend it without fire,” the nord snarled and she let go of him, taking half a step back so that he had space. Vilkas reached up and tried to get his thick fingers under the guard, but it was hard on his cheek and his jaw prevented him from getting a good angle. His eyes squeezed shut in determination as he tried to pull the metal, but it didn’t bend to his will and he swore loudly.

            “Just let me do it,” Neri barked and his gaze snapped up to her, freezing her in place. Her jaw tightened and she lifted her right hand, her fingers glowing with a faint red heat. Her inner fire was flaring. She wanted him to stop acting like this and go back to being silent and brooding. “Let go of it.”

            His lips curled, but he obeyed and she marched forward. “Don’t burn me, whelp.”

            Her crimson eyes closed and she felt her jaw clench. “Do you even know my name?”

            “I don’t need to.”

            She returned her attention to the helmet and placed her burning thumb on the crease. If she was careful, she could save the guard and he wouldn’t even have to take it to a smith for repairs. “Farkas knows my name,” she said, not looking anywhere but at her hands. She could feel those silver eyes boring into her face though.

            “I'm not Farkas.”

            “I know that,” she sighed and then slid her thin fingers under the guard to pull it slowly away from his cheek. He hissed as his flesh was still caught on the teeth. Neri ran her cool thumb over bleeding skin to free it and keep from burning him, but received a growl from somewhere deep in the nord. The sound shook her, but she tried to hold fast. The guard was almost back where it was supposed to be. He was bleeding pretty badly, though, so she summoned a healing spell in her left hand.

            Vilkas leapt to his feet, jerking her burning hand away from the metal. Then he grabbed the helmet and tossed it off his head onto the rock he’d been sitting on. It bounced and fell to the ground, the hot metal bending awkwardly.

            “What in Oblivion are you doing?” she shouted at the nord who was glaring at her scornfully.

            “I don’t need your magic, new blood.”

            “Why?” she narrowed her eyes at him, her own lips nearly curling in frustration. “It will _help_ you!”

            “I have never needed it, I don’t now,” he straightened up and adjusted his pack before turning and heading up the road.

            “What is with you nords! You’re all as stubborn as mules!” she threw her arms in the air. “Accept help when it’s offered! It’s not weakness; it’s _courtesy_!”

            Vilkas stopped and turned on her, his silver eyes narrow. “Is it courteous to force your beliefs on another?”

            “By the nine!” she screamed and gripped her hands tightly in balled up fists. He tilted his head slightly at that and she realized she shouldn’t have said that quite so loud in Imperial territory.

            “Watch yourself, whelp.”

            Neri tried to slow her breathing as she glared at the nord. From what she saw, the Companions didn’t care much for the war that was tearing Skyrim in half. Whiterun had somehow managed to remain rather neutral, but that wouldn’t continue, and she knew one day Ulfric Stormcloak and the Empire would demand it pick a side. She wondered what side the Companions would fight for. None of them seemed religious, so the likelihood they would join the rebellion was rather low. But then again, the Empire was a military, and generally mercenaries and military kept out of each other’s way.

            “Have you forsaken Talos, Brother?” she found herself saying before she could stop herself.

            Vilkas looked her over and said, “Never met an elf who saw him as a god.”

            “Well now you have,” she waved to herself and then put her hands on her hips.

            “Religious and spell throwing,” he sighed and turned away from her. “You’re turning out to be quite the handful.”

            Neri felt her inner heat grow, and she stomped along behind him, trying to steady her breathing.

 

 

            Maybe he preferred the daedra…. If he was a wolf then he was a child of Hircine, and that would explain his disinterest in the gods. Most nords wished for Sovngarde, but werewolves would end up in the daedra’s hunting grounds. With how Vilkas took down those bandits on the road, she could imagine him in either. He was a true nord, but he had a beast in him that she could see more clearly the longer she was with him.

            “Whelp.”

            Neri jerked around to see Vilkas at the counter. The Silver-Blood Inn was a large, stone building with ceilings that reached at least four stories high. There was a large fire opposite the entrance, and a bar in the common area. Some men were already circled around the fire, drinking happily –mostly nords– while a couple sat at the bar. Vilkas was getting rooms, but as she approached, she realized he was getting _himself_ a room.

            “When will we go after that farmer?” she asked, her voice softer now that they were inside. She loved Markarth for its beauty, but she forgot about the bad feeling that made you near constantly look over your shoulder. Vilkas didn’t seem to notice, or he was better at hiding it.

            “At first light, no point in getting lost in the hills when we’re tired from traveling across Skyrim.” She felt a wash of relief. Part of her had feared he was expecting her to be ready to go into the hills and find this farmer the moment they got to Markarth.

            “Okay,” she grabbed her coin purse and counted out the coin for a room as the nord looked around. Being a Companion was far more prosperous than a Silver-Hand; she had only worked three jobs and had made more coin doing them than the whole six months she’d been with the werewolf hunters.

            Vilkas’s silver eyes didn’t linger, but they observed nearly everyone in the room, and as she watched him from the corner of her eye she saw just how predatory it was. “Get some rest, whelp. I won’t wait for you in the morning,” he added suddenly, and she stared after him as he headed off down a side hall to a room.

            Neri shifted where she stood and tried to decide if she should go to bed or eat something. Her stomach was empty, but it wasn’t making any noises right now. All she’d had since she left Whiterun was bread and dried meat. A hot meal sounded nice….

            _Growl_.

            Yes. Her stomach agreed. “Excuse me,” Neri addressed the cook and placed an order for a stew.

            Several minutes later and the dark elf was sitting in the chair nearest to the fire with her toes pushed up close. She loved the feeling of the flames on the balls of her feet, and the hot air filtering between her tiny toes. She had kicked off her boots and left them under her chair while she relaxed deeply into it, her head resting below the midsection of the backrest. Neri took slow bites of her stew, smiling as the burning liquid ran over her tongue and scalded her throat on its way down into her stomach. It didn’t hurt. Fire almost never hurt her. It was more comforting than anything.

            The elf reached down to grab her wine and pressed the bottle to her lips. She liked the sweetness, and the warmth. This was all so nice. She could never do anything like this with the Silver-Hand–

            No. She was still with the Silver-Hand. She was just pretending to be a Companion. All this was temporary. She will return to Driftshade Refuge once they get what the need from the Companions.

            Once they _kill_ the wolves in the Companions.

            The thought made Neri frown and she looked down at her soup. She caught her lip between her teeth and stirred the liquid around, watching the meat and potatoes dance. They hadn’t done anything to harm her. Not even Vilkas, not really. The sparring between them had been training. She’d sparred with Farkas, too –who was far kinder and gave her pointers while they trained. Aela promised to show her how to use a bow, Njada was already giving her fighting tips when it came to hand-to-hand, which Athis promptly felt the need to advise on –they had been the ones fighting when she first came in, and despite Njada winning the fight, Athis seemed to better know how to _teach_ the combat style. She had been there a week and already she was received better than at Driftshade.

            “What’s this we have here? A little elf?”

            Neri’s crimson eyes drifted shut and she took a deep breath. It was only a matter of time, but to be honest she’d expected this sort of treatment more so in the east than here in an Imperial run city.

            “Took Talos from us and now you’re taking our food and drink. Is there anything your people earn themselves?”

            Neri tilted her head to regard the nord who was standing over her. He was drunk. Really drunk. He couldn’t even stand up straight without swaying. “You got the wrong elf, son of Skyrim.”

            “You’re all the same, pointy eared freaks of nature,” he growled, his upper lip pulling back from his teeth. Normally someone giving her that expression would scare her off. But Vilkas had perfected that look, and now this man was giving nothing more than a laughable attempt.

            “Freak of nature am I?” she stood and carefully put her bowl down in her chair. “Is it my long life that your jealous of? Or is it the more specific way my dark elf brothers and sisters continuously attempted to take Skyrim from your forefathers?” She straightened up to try to look bigger. There was no winning this fight with words, though not with how small she was, dressed in simple, ill-fitting leather armor. His muscled arm was nearly the size of her head. He dwarfed even Vilkas with his abundance of flesh shielding his bones, pulling his shirt tight. He wasn't a tall man, though, considering him being a nord. He appeared to be a miner or a smith of some sort.

            “You’re asking for an accident, elf.”

            “You’re looking for an ass kicking, nord,” she countered, her anger peaked.

            “You couldn’t win a fight without any of that magic your people depend on,” he laughed and she realized he was right. If this did turn into a fight she had already started to plan out her moves: light herself on fire and burn him. That would get her thrown in jail faster than she could say Talos. Bar fights weren’t against the law if no one died –nords loved their bar fights. While she was distracted with her thoughts, the man in front of her boasted about beating her into submission and making her beg for her life and honor, and something about her not even worth kissing her boot.

            Neri felt her fists draw up and her nails bite into her palms. Honor was always a nord’s weak spot, the place where they could be hit hardest. A nord man like this couldn’t lose a fight to a dunmer in a bar, not when he was the one to engage them –especially a woman.

            “…I’ll let you go if you bend your knee, elf.”

            Her attention sprung back up to his face. He was an ugly thing, old and worn from age and drinking. His hair was dull brown and grey-streaked, matted as if he hadn’t brushed even a finger through it in years, and it tangled in with his beard which grew thickly down onto his chest. His squinted eyes were dark with red rimming the whites and set below bushy brows.

            “What would your wife say if she heard you ask for a dunmer whore to kneel?” Neri shot back without meaning to. The man’s face went bright red. He probably wasn’t married, but turning a show of submission like bending your knee to a foe into a sexual act like kneeling in front of a man was probably one of the worst things she could have said.

            “Your mouth is getting you in trouble, ash skin.”

            “As is yours, nord. Perhaps you’d like to shut it with your mother’s tit? I’m sure you’re long passed your feeding.”

            The fist came faster than she thought it would, but really, she should have saw it. It struck her directly up the right side of her jaw and snapped her head sideways. She nearly spun with the force it put on her, and she barely caught herself on the chair that she had been sitting in. Her stew tumbled to the floor and spilled, soaking her boots.

            The nord didn’t stop with the one hit though, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back up to her feet, straight into another fist. She stood to the man’s chest, nearly his neck, as he was a bit shorter than her Shield-Brother. His grip on her hair was tight and tugged on her roots enough to draw out a hiss.

            “Release me, coward!” she kicked a harsh foot out toward his stomach. His reach was that of her legs and spared him her strike. She pulled against his hold to try again.

            “I’m a coward am I? When it is you who cannot win a fight without magic! Let’s see it! Let’s see this life saving magic! The guards will haul you off to Cidhna Mine,” he growled in her ear. “Soft little elf like you wouldn’t last long with those foresworn men…”

            “No man touches me unless I allow it,” she wrenched her head back to pull at her hair and free it from his grip. Her flesh lit up, burning with a glow, but not yet catching on fire. “Do it again and you’ll regret it, nord.”

            “I knew you couldn’t hold your own without magic,” he sneered and she felt her heart pick up. “Pathetic elf.”

            The fight on the road replayed in her head. How Vilkas had looked at her when he saw the burned bandits. ‘Companions don’t use magic, we don’t need it’ he had said. She was a Companion, a whelp, but not a Companion… an infiltrator….

            The nord was saying something, but she turned away from him, shaking her head. Neri didn’t want to be near him anymore, she felt sick, and the parts of her that he’d struck and grabbed stung.

            “Don’t walk away from me, cunt.”

            Oh no….

            Neri stopped and took a deep breath. All she wanted to do now was go to sleep. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not here, not now, not with this man around with a perfectly intact ego. Her tongue traced her lips, and she turned slightly to look back at the man, her red eyes locking on his face. “Mind repeating that?”

            “Don’t. Walk away. From me,” he said carefully and paused. “ _Cunt_.”

            “That’s what I thought you said,” she nodded and bit her lip, looking down at the tile floor. There were a lot of people watching. Everyone either didn’t care enough to do anything about what was happening, or they were placing bets. “I suppose you think I’ve earned that, snowberries,” she breathed and lifted her chin so that she could look up at the man.

            His face contorted and he grabbed her leather armor, lifting her off the ground in a swift motion. Neri’s legs thrashed about, and she tried to grab ahold of him, but his reach was too long. She hung heavily in her armor, choking her as it pressed against her throat. He growled wordlessly and punched her stomach. Her breath left her in a rush and she yelped, her legs curling with the force. She grabbed the nord’s hand and tried to relieve the pressure on her neck.

            The man dropped her, her feet bent, and she tumbled to the ground, landing hard on her ass. He didn’t give her a chance to recover, and kicked her in the side, throwing her over onto her hands and knees. She bit her lip to keep from spitting blood.

            “Such a _big, strong_ nord man, beating up a little elf!” she growled and turned to look up at him. Her lips pulled back over her teeth and she watched in slow motion as his fist came down at her.

            For only a moment she wondered what it would be like to have their kind of strength. Sure, she could kill this man with her magic, but that was the only way. He could kill her with his bare hands, and for some reason… that interested Neri. What if her magic ever failed her? Or was taken? She’d heard of people’s magic being taken away from them. Without it, she was just a small dunmer, who couldn’t hunt, fight, or hold her own.

            The strike only hurt for a moment before everything went black.

 

 

            Neri woke up with a splitting headache and nausea threatening to send all of her stomach acid up her throat. She was on a stone bed in the Silver-Blood in, lying on her back so she could stare up at the tower ceiling. After taking a slow, deep breath she tried to sit up.

            “Don’t move, whelp,” Vilkas’s deep voice shook her.

            Neri looked up at the nord who stood from where he’d been sitting at a table, reading a book. “What happened?”

            “You don’t remember?”

            “No.”

            He frowned at that and stepped up to look at her face closer. “You picked a fight with a drunken nord, and lost,” he explained and placed a heavy hand on her forehead to check her temperature. His flesh was cool against hers, and for once she welcomed it, closing her eyes. “He should have stopped. There’s no honor in rendering an opponent unconscious when you’ve already won.”

            “How do you know what happened? I thought you went to bed?” she whispered, relaxing some as he withdrew his hand.

            “I heard him before he started talking to you,” he sighed and she opened her eyes. She faintly remembered the events, at least the beginning of it, as the night went on it got fuzzier.

            “You heard him from your room?”

            “He was quite loud.” She didn’t believe him, but nodded anyway and the nord sat down on the side of the stone bed, looking tired. She frowned at him.

            “How long have I been out?”

            “A day,” he answered. He wasn’t wearing his armor, in stead he was just in a shirt and trousers. His armor was sitting on a nearby table. He looked… the same, without his armor. Almost… bigger. With his armor on it seemed to slim him down, but now she could see just how big he was without the steel's illusions.

            “I’m sorry, Brother.”

            He sighed and stood up. “I swore to Aela you’d come back alive, and I will honor that,” he gave her a meaningful look. “So don’t start any more fights you cannot win.”

            She nodded, feeling comforted that he had plans to get her back to Jorrvaskr. “I could have beat him if I had used my magic.”

            “And do you know where that would have gotten you?” he tilted his head at her and she watched how his hair untucked from behind his ear. His calm shifted to anger quickly now.

            “In the mine…”

            “Cidhna mine is not just a _mine_ , new blood. It is a prison, and you don’t _leave_ from it,” he growled and she swallowed. “Even with your magic, you wouldn’t make it there, whelp,” he added, though it looked like he was saying it as a warning. “If the prisoners didn’t get you, the guards would.”

            “I know not to use magic in a bar fight,” she whispered and he shook his head. She was missing something, she knew, and it upset him. Neri wet her lips and tried to sit up more and push her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go to my room now…”

            “You’re in your room. We’re sharing,” he huffed and gestured to her. “I couldn’t leave you alone.”

            Her heart hammered and she looked down at herself. She was missing pieces of her armor, but most of it was still there, namely her chest plate and thigh guards. Vilkas sat down in the chair he’d been in previously and they were quiet for a long time.

            “When will we go after that farmer?”

            “When you can safely move,” he said simply, without looking up from the book he was reading. Neri’s tongue ran over her teeth and she lied back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

            “What have you been doing this whole time?”

            “Reading… making sure you stay alive,” he said and she imagined him shrugging. Neri nodded and lifted her hand, summoning a self-healing spell. She cast it, the golden light streaming down from her hand around her, and slowly the ache in her head and the churning of her stomach subsided. She could feel Vilkas’s glare.

            “You still have that wound on your cheek,” she commented and heard him huff.

            “Just another scar.”

            Neri rolled over, feeling better now. She propped herself up on an elbow and looked at the nord with narrowed eyes. “You’ll still have a scar, I promise, but you can tear the scab and it can get infected…” she frowned at him.

            The nord growled, the sound rumbled in his chest and she took a deep breath, remembering his promise to Aela. He wasn’t going to harm her. “You won’t let this go, will you?”

            “I will continue to offer my services until it’s healed, by your time or mine,” she said and sat up on the bed.

            His jaw tightened and his eyes squeezed shut. “Fine, whelp.”

            Neri smiled and got up, walking over to him to stand in front of his knees as he turned in his chair so she could access his cheek. The guard had very nearly tore all the way through it, and had left a long gouge up the side to his cheekbone, but it had healed fairly quickly already. “Just hold still, Brother.”

            She took his chin in her hand and angled it up. His jaw was rough from hair that needed shaved. He hadn’t since they left, so he had two days of fast growing nord hair dusting his face, circling his lips. They were thick and soft looking, with a faint red tone that made them stand away from his skin. She tried not to get distracted by them, and was happy his eyes were closed.

            The healing spell filled her right hand and she drew a golden line around his wound, watching as the flesh mended itself. The nord relaxed under her touch and she got distracted by how the lines around his eyes fading. He had reapplied some paint to them, darkening his eye sockets so that his sliver irises stood out more.

            He looked so young now, as his lips parted and his features softened. The space between his brows relaxed and he sighed. Neri’s breathing picked up and she swallowed, her hand falling away from his cheek now that his wound was healed.

            Vilkas’s silver eyes opened, and he looked up at her, his heavy brows unable to cast them into shadow as they glowed. She stared down at him and tried to slow her breathing.

            “What’s wrong, Sister?”

            The dark elf’s heart stopped and she blinked down at him.

            Did he even realize what he’d just said? He had to… but his face didn’t change, it looked the same: relaxed, calm.

            “N–nothing,” she breathed and stepped away from him, her hand on his jaw falling away. He stood up and her head tipped back so she could keep looking at him. “Brother.”


	4. Crimson Skies with Hidden Moons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her heart.
> 
> He could smell it the more he focused on it. A healthy heart, pulsing with hot blood, whispering with each beat. He could hear the rush of blood through it.
> 
> In.  
> Out.  
> Pulse.  
> Pulse.  
> Feed.

**Vilkas**

            On his way to his room, Vilkas did his best not to listen to the nord in the corner. Since he and the whelp had walked in the nord was grumbling about her. Vilkas didn’t care so much what he was saying, but that he was talking about a Companion. The she-elf was a whelp, new blood, but she was very nearly a Companion, and deserved better recognition than based solely off her race. There was little way for him to know that she was a Companion of Jorrvaskr as she wasn’t a member of the Circle like him, and had yet to upgrade to Skyforge steel weapons. But with Vilkas close at her side the man should have shown a little respect.

            As he made it to his room, Vilkas stripped down his armor and listened down the hall as the man continued to say horrid things about the whelp. It even drifted into comments about Vilkas not being a true son of Skyrim for traveling with –and probably bedding– the elf.

            That did it for him. His honor was questioned, and Vilkas couldn’t take that.

            Vilkas adjusted the shirt he was wearing, and tied his trousers up on his hips. When he got back out to the common area the nord was talking to the whelp. She was standing, firing back comments as quickly as he was, causing Vilkas’s lip to perk. She knew how to talk, but talk didn’t win bar fights with drunken nords.

            It took every ounce of his will not to go to them when the nord punched her and knocked her over her chair. He felt a hiss drive up from his stomach and he ached to go over, not to help, but to tell her what to do. She didn’t fight well, not with her fists –he’d seen her with Athis and Njada. If she resorted to magic she would get thrown in the mine, and he couldn’t allow someone to bring that kind of shame on the Companions.

            For a moment, her skin flared up, taking on a red glow, but she put it out before her flesh caught on fire. That was always an aspect of dark elves he’d hated –their ability to light themselves on fire at will. The nord mocked her, and she tried to leave him.

            Vilkas was disappointed that she would let the man talk to her how he had, but he knew it was better than her burning him to death and then getting imprisoned. Vilkas turned to return to his room and froze just as the whelp did when the man called her ‘cunt’. The wolf in him rumbled and he glanced back to see her turn back to address the man, making him repeat himself.

            Vilkas could understand the man’s reaction to her words –no man likes being told he had balls the size of snowberries– but he felt a small sense of pride for the dark elf when she took the beating that came. What made him finally come forward was the strike to her face that knocked her out.

            “Have you no honor?” Vilkas growled at the nord when he grabbed the whelp’s hair to lift her unconscious face to hit her again. The nord turned in time to receive Vilkas’s fist, causing him to stumble back. “She’s down, leave her,” his voice rumbled deep in his chest.

            “Defending your whore?”

            “Speak ill of the Companions again and I will put you on your back,” Vilkas bared his teeth at the man and stood straighter, standing so that he was over the whelp to keep the other nord away from her.

            “ _She’s_ a Companion? I thought you had honor! Allowing the elves in? Do you give a skeever a sword and call it _brother_?” he spat at Vilkas’s feet. The wolf inside of him stirred and his eyes flashed gold, his gums ached and he resisted growling again.

            When Vilkas stepped forward his fist made contact with the man’s cheek, shattering the bone there and loosening some teeth. The nord fell to the ground and groaned, trying to lift himself as he spat blood and molars onto the stone floor. Vilkas knelt beside him and grabbed him by his matted hair. He smelled of the mines and alcohol, as well as sweat and piss. “Stay down, or I’ll do to you what you did to my sister.”

            The nord spat into Vilkas face, and the wolf in him howled, drawing out a long, low growl. He punched the nord again, putting him out. When he stood he looked back at those watching. Everyone looked away from him and he turned to the elf. She was still, and for a faint moment, he worried she’d died.

            When he came back to her side he saw her slow, labored breathing and could hear her heart. He bent and scooped her off the ground, then grabbed her boots. As he passed the innkeeper he paused and said, “She won’t be needing her room, use the money to clean the mess.” The man nodded and Vilkas took the whelp to his room, placing her on the stone bed before closing the door.

           

 

            Already he’d given her two health tonics and checked all her wounds thrice, but she still remained motionless on the bed. Vilkas paced the room and growled, running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. He needed to get out of here, to breath, to _hunt_. The nord’s blood on his face had driven him wild –it took him _every_ fiber of his being not to lick at it. He’d wiped it and his face paint off to keep him from sniffing the rag; blood mixed with paint was far less appealing.

            But now he had the left over want burning in his chest and making his gums ache as his teeth began to shift. He wanted to leave so badly –just for a few hours– to go out into the hills and _kill something_. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. If he stayed here he would kill that nord for his disrespect… and if he killed him he didn’t think he could keep from eating his heart….

            Vilkas punched the stone wall, leaving a crack in it and his fist. He hissed and grabbed the health tonic he was waiting to give the elf to see how her condition faired. He sipped it, only enough to get the bones to set, and watched his hand. A soft golden glow followed his veins and adjusted his fingers.

            He turned to the whelp and froze. She had shifted in her slumber, and now her face was tilted away from him. He could see her ashen neck surrounded by curls of red hair the color of blood, the color of her eyes. The side of her neck was beating with her heart, and he very nearly could smell it. The nord took a step toward her and traced his lips with his tongue.

            The whelp’s breathing was slow, no longer labored, that with the pulse of her neck, drew his eye to her chest. The man he was wanted to look at her breasts, the way her armor sat to show she had a pair perfect for nursing children –but the wolf within was looking deeper than the mounds of flesh.

            Her heart.

            He could smell it the more he focused on it. A healthy heart, pulsing with hot blood, whispering with each beat. He could hear the rush of blood through it.

            In.

            Out.

            _Pulse_.

            _Pulse_.

 _Feed_.

            Vilkas hadn’t even realized he was standing over the whelp now, his hands gripping the stone bed for support as his watering mouth hung open. His teeth grew and he was just a moment from tearing her open and feasting on her.

            The nord tore himself away and grabbed his sword, not bothering to grab his armor. He closed and locked the door behind him. She would be safer this way, without him there, until he could clear his head.

            Then he left the inn, and the city. Once he was alone in the hills he took a deep breath and looked up at the dark sky. Red and green lights danced across the moons and clouds approached. It was a chilling night in the Reach, and he allowed a shudder to trace his spin before he found a bush and readied his sword.

            Four hours of training under the moonlight normally worked him out of his trance, but the call of the blood renewed every time he smelled the nearby game. His gums ached, and his spine burned, forcing him into a slight hunch.

            No, he wouldn’t turn. He refused to allow the wolf to take over.

            Vilkas found his fifth bush of the night and started hacking at it, practicing his moves with the sword, and _forcing_ himself not to think about anything but his stance and technique. It would be better to have the training dummies, but this was sufficient for now.

            Vilkas found his peace when the moons were hidden behind the clouds, as he looked up at them he noted how crimson they appeared from the auroras behind them. It would have been beautiful if he hadn’t been so bloodthirsty.

            When he returned to the city, Vilkas went straight back to the inn to check on the whelp. He’d been gone far longer than he meant to, but he was comforted that he didn’t have the same cravings to open her chest now. He put his sword down and walked up to her, allowing his hand to rest on her forehead. She was burning hot under his touch, and he removed his fingers.

            Elves had such harsh features, most of them pointed and holding ungodly ages, but the whelp was different. Her forehead was smooth, and her brows soft. The lines around her eyes were faint, barely noticeable, and she looked as if she could be younger than him. He found that highly unlikely, though, he’d been fooled more than once by young elf women. The whelp was probably as old as Kodlak, but raised to be prideful and reliant on others.

            Frowning, he grabbed her wrist to look at her soft hands. She had little callus, and what was there looked recent. He put it down at her side, and returned his attention to her face. The soft grey of her skin actually held more of a human’s flesh tone under it, now that he looked at her closer, rather than the blue hue her people favored. Maybe she was mixed –favoring her dark elf side? She was so small, though, even for a dunmer.

            He brushed away the strands of hair that were sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her braids would need retied when she woke. She would also need to bathe; he could smell she was coming up on her monthly bleeding.

            That thought made him turn away. Aela had just finished hers, which meant she and Skjor would be taking long hunting trips together. She told him how great it was to mate while in the beast form, but he held no draw to his Sister in Honor. Even so, he did not wish to compete for her against Skjor. The old man could have her –she wasn’t Vilkas' type.

            Vilkas left the room again and found the bath the inn offered. It cost him a few septims, but he didn’t mind, he had plenty. A woman prepared the hot water, and Vilkas waited outside the door, watching the fire and the early morning workers prepare for their day with breakfast at the inn. The night shifts were coming in to get a meal before bed, but no one paid him mind.

            The water nearly burned, but he settled into the bath, and ran his hands over his grimy flesh to rid it of the dirt and sweat. It felt nice to have his skin clean. He didn’t have a razor, so he would have to wait to shave until he got back to Jorrvaskr. Vilkas didn’t leave the water until it was cloudy and cold. When he stepped out he quickly dried himself off with a fine towel –he paid extra for– and ran it through his hair. He hadn’t had soap, so he wouldn’t smell any better, and his hair would still have oil sleeking it, but he felt cleaner, and that’s all he cared about.

            He redressed himself in the clothes he’d come in, reapplied his eye paint, and went back to the room. The whelp was there, and had moved again, but only enough to turn her face toward the door. He frowned at her. Now he could see the left side of her face where those scars tore into her.

            She knew healing magic, yet she hadn’t fixed that? It made him wonder how she got it, and how long she’d had it. It had to mean something to her if she kept it from closing up correctly.

            Vilkas was standing over her again. This time it wasn’t in hunger. He was looking at the fullness of her lips at the end of those scars, and the soft curve of her nose, how high her jaw was before reaching her pointed ears. Then his eyes fell to her exposed neck, bruised from where she’d been choked on her armor. He had left her chest and thigh leathers on but removed her bracers and shoulder guards while he was giving her the health potion. Part of him wanted to remove the other parts of her armor now.

            To make sure she didn’t have any bruising or broken ribs….

            Vilkas turned away and clenched his jaw, he wouldn’t let his desires get the best of him, be it wolf… or man. He grabbed his bag and took out his book before sitting at the table in the room and sighing. He would read until she woke up, he decided as he grabbed some bread from his bag and chewed on it.

 

 

            Vilkas shouldn’t have let her heal him. Something happened when he felt that golden light touch him.

            Maybe it wasn’t the light, maybe it was her.

            Either way, he shouldn’t have let it happen. It distracted him now. Every time he turned around he was checking on her. It made it hard to fight the foresworn bandits on this cliff side, and caused him far more stress than he should have.

            With the bandits on the road he hadn’t paid her any mind, now he was watching her carefully to make sure she could handle herself against the natives. The sad part was she was taking fewer blows than he was.

            Vilkas threw his greatsword into a briarheart’s side and pulled it back out, spraying blood. Then he brought it down again, cutting through the man’s neck to separate his head from his torso. The whelp ran up with her axes behind her, held so that she could use her speed as an extra force. She sunk them both into a woman with a bow as she loosed an arrow.

            Vilkas turned and swung his sword, slicing open the stomach of an approaching man and turned away, looking at the whelp instead of the bloody mess in front of him. She was standing in a tent, using it for cover from another archer, and looking at the arrow that stuck out of her shoulder.

            He went to her and knelt in front of her.

            “I’m fine,” she said before he could ask, and he bared his teeth. Her blood was spilling onto her armor and he shook his head.

            “Why do you wear this? It doesn’t protect you,” he growled and gave the leather a tug. It shifted the arrow stuck in her, and she yelped. He hissed and grabbed the arrow, breaking off the shaft and grabbed the bow of the dead foresworn beside them.

            He picked up an arrow and stepped out to look at the archer who was laughing at them. She loosed an arrow on him, and he shifted, allowing it to fly by his head, then he fired back, predicting her dodge, so she stepped right into its path. She fell and he dropped the bow, looking back down at the whelp.

            “Can you keep going?”

            “Yeah,” she stood up and grabbed the arrow’s broken shaft, yanking it from her shoulder with a cry. Vilkas flinched and resisted stepping closer to her. She held up her golden orb and healed her wound. “Good as new,” she breathed and let the spell fall away, replacing it with her axes. She hadn’t used any magic yet, the whole time they were fighting, and it almost made him smile. The whelp had taken his words to heart, and that was enough to show him she was serious about being a Companion.

            “Come on, we still have to save that farmer,” Vilkas breathed.

 

 

            On their way back to Whiterun, the two stopped in Rorikstead. The farmer had been alive and well, considering he’d been locked up without food and water for going on a week. The imperial was more than grateful when the whelp used one of her spells on him to bring him back to healthy. They also gave him some bread and meat while they returned him to his home. The man’s wife –a young high elf– was so happy to see him, she hugged both Vilkas and the whelp.

            The farmer paid them, and as Vilkas lead the way off the farm, he noticed the whelp’s gaze lingering on the farmer and his wife, especially when a child came out to greet her pa. You didn’t see many mixed races in Skyrim, most nords wanted to keep their lines ‘pure’. Not to mention elves were highly infertile, making it hard on them to have any children at all, let alone adding the extra work of crossing races.

            Now, the whelp was leaning over an alchemy station making a few health potions to refill the ones they’d used, and Vilkas found himself sitting across the room watching her. She needed some new armor, maybe he could talk to Eorlund and have something made for–

            Vilkas turned away from the elf and grabbed his tankard, throwing back the last of his drink. A boy came up and offered to refill it. Vilkas accepted and watched him pour the liquid carefully. “What’s your name, boy?”

            “Erik,” he said, and smiled as he placed the cup down. “Sir.”

            He nodded and turned on the bench seat to better look the boy over. “You farm here? You look strong.”

            “I’ve been training for a life of adventuring,” he said cheerily, and Vilkas let himself smile a little at that.

            “Why not join the Companions?” he asked and the boy shifted, holding the pitcher in his hand carefully.

            “My pa won’t hear it. I could never disobey him,” he shrugged. “Someday, perhaps.”

            “It is a great honor,” Vilkas breathed and drank from his tankard.

            “Oh, I know,” the boy smiled and looked over toward the bar, then his gaze flicked toward the whelp. She straightened up and stretched before lifting a vial and rotating it in her hand, watching the liquid.

            “All the gold one needs, the honor a nord asks for, and the women a man wants,” Vilkas breathed, noting the smell coming off the boy suddenly. He didn’t particularly like the lust the boy was showing toward the whelp, but he could play off of it for recruiting.

            “Is she… is she a Companion?” he turned back to Vilkas.

            “Aye,” he nodded and glanced at her himself. “New blood, but learning quickly.”

            The boy shifted, and cleared his throat, “I should get back to work.”

            He let the boy go, and stood to go to the whelp’s side. “New blood,” he called and she glanced up, her red brows curving with interest as she continued to smash ingredients with a mortar and pestle. “Thirsty?” he offered his glass and she smiled, taking it.

            When she straightened, she relaxed some and wiped her brow. He looked at the mess of ingredients and vials filled with different measures of liquids in a range of colors. “Thank you, Brother,” she breathed and tipped back the drink, taking more than he thought she would.

            She handed him back the tankard and he leaned against the pillar beside the alchemy station to watch her as she continued to beat the ingredients into powder. “I thought you were only making a couple of health potions?”

            She smiled a little and looked up at him, his eyes flickered to the way her scars creased. “I know, but then I realized I could make some simple stamina and drain magicka potions from things I picked up at the foresworn camp.”

            He nodded and picked up a blue liquid filled vial. Swishing it back and forth he watched it slowly shift like thick sap. “Interesting.”

            “Put that on an arrow and shoot a mage: his magicka will wane,” she smiled at him wider, pleased with herself and he nodded placing the poison down.

            “I assume I could put it on my blade as well?”

            “Aye, but the longer it’s exposed to air the weaker it is, so it’s best used on an arrow so it will be used quickly,” she shrugged and he nodded his understanding.

            “What does this one do?” he picked up a vial with a yellow liquid in it that bubbled slightly.

            “Increases your strength,” she said and frowned a little. “I guess if you need an extra boost or something…. I’ll probably just sell it to the alchemist in Whiterun when we return home.”

            She paused and looked away from him, and he noticed her scent change. It was odd. All of a sudden she smelled of fear and… something else…

            “Something wrong, Sister?”

            Her heart spiked, and the scent rolling off her confused him, mixing together with the fear and… regret? And something new he couldn’t differentiate from all the other scents. Her alchemy was throwing him off, and now that he was trying to focus on it, it made his head spin.

            “No, I’m fine,” she breathed and bent to grab her bag. He looked down at her kneeling before him, and he forced himself to look away, at the tankard in his hand. He couldn’t tell were the lust in the air was coming from: himself or that boy… from her…. He shook his head in a weak attempt to clear it and shifted when the whelp stood up and started to push her potions into her knapsack.

            “Get some rest, we head out in the morning.” He finished his ale and placed the cup down on a table, passing her. “I won’t wait for you.”

            At that she laughed lightly, and Vilkas smiled privately at the sound as he walked away from her to his room.


	5. Silver Gazes Watching, Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Her heart called to me! I’ve never smelled anything sweeter than her fear, brother…”
> 
> Neri swallowed, staring at the wall across from her with wide eyes. Any remaining doubt in her mind that he was a wolf went out the window. It made her stomach churn to think about his words. He liked the smell of her fear, and by the divines was she scared of him.

**Neri**

            Jorrvaskr welcomed Neriasa and Vilkas’s return with praise and open arms. She noticed that it was common for brothers and sisters that had left the hold to be received like this, and it made their homecoming so much better than she could have hoped. To be honest, she didn’t think they would get any recognition for the seemingly small job they’d done.

            Everyone greeted them briefly, and most returned to their duties while the members of the Circle lingered. Farkas took Vilkas in a strong embrace before holding his shoulder and walking with him to their rooms, talking of a saber cat that had attacked a nearby farm only yesterday. Aela and Skjor came up to Neri.

            “How was your trip with Vilkas, whelp?” Skjor asked, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him.

            “It went well: we saved the farmer, and I learned a lot,” she explained and Aela nodded.

            “We’ll talk to Vilkas and see what his thoughts are, but we think you’re coming up quickly on official membership, new blood,” she said and tilted her head at the dark elf. “I have word of a small pack of wolves causing a problem on the eastern bridge, just passed the meadery, would you mind taking care of them?”

            “Of course, Sister,” Neri nodded eagerly. “Just… I’ll go soon as I unpack.”

            “Perfect,” the huntress turned to Skjor who nodded and she took her leave of them, feeling their eyes on her as she trotted down the stairs.

            She didn’t have a bed, technically, but it seemed like everyone had a preferred place to rest their head. Neri had taken to the far back corner, as it was farthest from the door, most of the others didn’t make it that far, and it left her with a semi-regular place to sleep. Quickly, she unpacked her things and looked over the potions she’d made. She had planned to sell most of them, but had the thought that maybe Vilkas would like a couple of the health potions she’d crafted.

            So she slid off her bed and went down the hall toward the twins’ rooms. She paused when heard Vilkas’ frustrated voice through his shut door. Her heart picked up and she slowly, quietly, slid closer, trying to be as silent as she could.

            “…I almost did it, Farkas!”

            “But you didn’t. She’s a live, and she’s fine.” As alike as they were, she could tell Farkas’s voice apart from how much deeper it was with a gravel edge, he also spoke slower than his brother, with a natural calm.

            “Her heart _called_ to me! I’ve never smelled anything sweeter than her fear, brother…”

            Neri swallowed, staring at the wall across from her with wide eyes. _Any_ remaining doubt in her mind that he was a wolf went out the window. It made her stomach churn to think about his words. He liked the smell of her fear, and by the divines was she scared of him.

            “You can resist it, for Kodlak,” Farkas was saying.

            “How do you? How do you stop the desire, Farkas?” Vilkas sounded defeated, and Neri turned her head to hear better as the nord’s voice lowered. “I was _so close_ to opening up her chest… if it would have been full moons she would be dead. I couldn’t stop myself. The only thing that saved her was my promise to Aela.”

            Neri felt a sting in her heart and she turned away, wanting to leave, she should go, she heard all she thought she could take. But somehow they hadn’t noticed her yet, and they could offer more information, information she could give to the Silver-Hand.

            She had almost lost sight of her reason for being here, she had forgotten how dangerous the wolves were. Jamir had told her they wouldn’t hesitate, and Vilkas just said that he would have killed her had he not swore to Aela to bring her back. A nord’s honor could barely hold back the wolf’s desire. What about next time she travels with him? What if there was a full moon?

            “You can’t beat yourself up, Vilkas. You worry too much.”

            “That’s so easy for you to–”

            Neri stiffened and shifted away from the wall just as the door to her Shield-Brother’s room jerked open. She stared up at Vilkas, meeting his silver eyes in the dim of the hall.

            “What’re you doing here?” he growled, and she felt her fear take her over. She watched him, saw how his eyes flashed golden and his lips shifted over his gums. No… his gums were shifting _under_ his lips. She felt a quake shudder her spine and she gulped.

            “I’m sorry, Brother, I just wanted to offer you the health tonics I made,” she breathed and Farkas pushed his twin out of the way.

            “You’re scaring the whelp,” he barked and stepped up to Neri, his hand resting on her shoulder. She peered up at him, seeing Vilkas’s face, but it was so different, more hair framing it and growing thicker around his mouth. His lips were quirked up more, and his eyes were softer, but it was the same face –they even wore the same eye paint.

            “She’s no reason to fear me,” Vilkas sighed and shifted away from his door, looking away from her. Neri felt her breathing return to normal and Farkas offered a hand to take her potions. She handed them to him.

            “I have to go kill a couple of wolves outside the city…” she whispered and turned away from them. As she walked away she added mentally, _and start plans for the ones inside the walls._

 

 

            Neriasa glared at the burning wolf corpses and leaned against the stone pillar of the bridge. “Companions don’t use magic… they don’t need it,” she growled in a horrible Nordic accent.

            The black hounds had been too easy: three fireballs and the four dogs were down, brunt and crispy. She couldn’t harvest anything from them worth her time, so she settled for standing there, watching them.

            “That one’s Aela,” she pointed to the she-wolf. “Skjor,” the alpha. “Vilkas and Farkas…” she gestured to the other two, one of them slightly thicker while the other was taller. With a nod she threw another fireball at the leaner one, her lips curled over her teeth. “Nothing to fear, hmm? You only wanted to _eat my heart_.”

            The dunmer turned around and looked back toward the city, her shoulders heavy. It was nearly nightfall. Her feelings now were so different than mere hours ago when she had come into the city, laughing at the way her Shield-Brother mocked a guard who grumbled about being stuck on guard duty rather than out fighting dragons. How he was so different; from a normal man to a wild beast in moments. She almost… found herself liking the man.

            Jamir would be sick to hear her say that. Neri flinched at the thought and rubbed at her forehead, wetting her lips nervously. She needed to see Jamir again, to see his face, she’d been away from him for two weeks, but it felt like more than that. He would hold her and comfort her, say something sweet. He always had something sweet to say, not like how Vilkas spoke to her.

            Neri bit at her lip and then started back toward the city. She needed a way to get in contact with Jamir. First thing in the morning she would get a letter to a courier headed north –usually jarls had messages leaving their keeps, so she could pass a message along with one of them. All she needed was to set up a meeting somewhere none of the Companions would follow her.

            “New blood!”

            Neri froze and glanced up, seeing Aela coming forward with a torch. She stopped on the bridge just next to War-maiden’s smith, allowing the nord woman to approach her. “Hail, Companion,” she smiled, trying to swallow her fear before the she-wolf could smell it.

            “Come with me,” she said with a smile that almost put Neri at ease. Almost.

            “Aye, sister…”

            They were quiet as they walked down the path toward the crossroads. Aela turned off the cobblestone in favor of the plains, and Neri followed, feeling her spine prickle with fear and anxiety. The sun fell and they were cast into darkness, the only light coming from the auroras over head and the torch in the huntress’s hand. Neri glanced up to see the nearly black moons. Thin slivers were the only remaining light from them, and the dark elf wondered how strong their call was to the woman in front of her.

            “I love coming out here,” Aela said suddenly, and stopped to look up at the sky. She lowered the torch to a rock cluster where she stuck the end in so it sat straight.

            “It’s beautiful,” Neri agreed and glanced around. If she were to yell no one would hear her.

            “You’re nervous?” Aela turned to her and Neriasa stiffened.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Look at you,” she gestured to the dark elf and placed a hand on her hip. “You’re stiff, I could almost smell it on you.” The smirk told her she could actually smell it, but Neri tried to act as if she hadn’t noticed.

            “I’m fine, sister, just wary from my journey. Vilkas walks fast, all you nords do,” she tried to joke.

            Aela nodded at that, allowing a small laugh to escape her lips. She simply replied, “Small elf, small legs.” Then she sat down and leaned back into the grass to stare up at the sky. “Come, lie with me, Sister.”

            Neri’s brows lifted, but she joined the nord and watched the stars in silence. It was beautiful, something she didn’t appreciate until she came to live in Jorrvaskr. She couldn’t be sure how much time passed before Aela spoke again, but when she did her voice was soft.

            “Why did you come to us, new blood?”

            Neri frowned and thought for a moment. “I came because… I had to,” she said honestly.

            “Was it the honor? Glory?” Aela was smiling, it showed in her words. “Gold?”

            “I’m not sure.”

            “Companionship?”

            There was a moment of silence and Neri shifted where she lay on the ground. Then she sat up and cleared her throat. “I don’t understand.”

            “My mother was a Companion. And her mother. And all the women in my family, back to Hrotti Blackblade. I stayed with my father in the woods until I was old enough for my Trial. We hunted everything there was to hunt.... Good training. Ma didn't live long enough to see me join, but I fight to honor her and all my Shield-Sisters through time.” Neri watched the woman as she stared into the sky, resting a hand behind her head.

            “I feel foolish for my reason,” the dark elf breathed and the nord woman laughed, sitting up.

            “Don’t, new blood. No matter the reason, you’re here, and soon you will truly be one of us. Skjor and I have discussed what your Trial will be.” She crossed her legs under her and watched Neri with her glowing silver eyes. “There was a man who came to us while you and Vilkas were away, a scholar. Skjor thought him a fool, but he and I agree that the lead should be followed. He told us of a possible resting place of several fragments of Wuuthrad.” When Neri’s face gave away she had no idea what that was, Aela continued, “It is a sacred weapon, wielded by Ysgramor himself. It brings with it honor, and we wish to have it whole again. We already have some fragments, but we desire the whole so we can reforge it.”

            Neri nodded and shifted where she sat, her mind racing. “So… you want me to go see if these fragments are where this scholar said?”

            “Aye,” she nodded once. “Skjor and I will speak with Kodlak in the morning to confirm it. You’ll need a Shield-Sibling to observe you, seeing as it is your Trial. It won’t be as simple as saving a farmer.” Then she smiled a little in a way the made Neri flush, “I could suggest Vilkas goes with you.”

            “That’s–” Neri coughed, “That’s not necessary, Sister.”

            She tilted her red head, “I thought you two got along well?”

            “We… I don’t really…” Neri shook her head and stood up, nibbling on her lip. “I… I would rather go with Farkas,” she blurted and Aela nodded, standing also.

            “Very well, I’ll tell Skjor. Farkas is a good man, slow in the head, but a fine fighter,” she bent and grabbed her torch. “We should spend more time out here like this.”

            “Yeah,” Neri agreed and cleared her throat, looking everywhere but at the nord woman as they returned to Jorrvaskr, speaking of the location of the fragments and the importance of Wuuthrad to the Companions.

 

 

            Neri finished the letter, trying to keep things simple, and saying she’d give more details to whoever she met with –preferably Jamir– at the designated place and time. Couriers were fast, so she was sure the letter would reach Driftshade Refuge by nightfall or tomorrow at the least.

            Stretching, the dark elf glanced around Jorrvaskr’s first floor. It was early –very early– and most of the Companions were asleep as they’d only gone to bed a few hours ago. She hadn’t slept yet, not since the inn in Rorikstead. Every time she thought about it she imagined Vilkas bowing over her, reading himself to tear into her. So she decided she would busy herself with some training and get this letter hammered out when no one was around.

            Alone time with the Companions never lasted though, and she heard the doors at the bottom of the stairs open, announcing someone’s arrival. Neri tried to be casual and keep her eyes down cast, but she peaked out of curiosity. Much to her surprise it was Farkas.

            He took the steps quickly, almost jogging up them, before he turned and noticed her. “Ah, sister,” he greeted and changed his path to come close. “Aren’t you tired?”

            “Not really,” she shrugged and stood, folding the letter and tucking it into her armor. He glanced at it, not hiding his interest, and then tilted his head slightly.

            If Vilkas was a wolf, then Farkas was a pup. There was no other way to describe it. While Vilkas was quick, beastly, and scary, Farkas was slow, cute, and simple. She could only imagine him being a werewolf because she’d imagined Vilkas as one so many times and they shared a face.

            “What’s that you got there?” he asked, not demanding, but openly curious.

            She decided to tell him the truth, “A letter to a friend. I haven’t spoken to him since I came here.”

            “Oh,” he breathed, blinking slowly, then he glanced around and shrugged. “Would you like to come with me? I was just gonna buy a keg from the inn –I just finished mine.”

            She smiled a little and nodded, “Sure, I’ll come with you.”

            They walked in silence, and she looked at him at the corner of her eye. He was slightly thicker than Vilkas, but it seemed to make him look shorter? He wasn’t wearing his armor, so maybe that was a part of it, it made sense that the wolf armor would slim them both down if it did so for Vilkas. It put her at ease some that she had changed into a tunic and breeches also, seeing her leather needed mended and there was little point to wear it around Jorrvaskr when she wasn’t going on a job or training.

            Farkas held the doors for her, like his brother, and allowed her go ahead of him into the Bannered Mare. She stood by the fire, enjoying the burn through her slippers, as Farkas spoke with the innkeeper. Only a few guards populated the space –it had to be nearly three in the morning. The nord didn’t take long to pay for and get his keg. When he had it on his shoulder Neri quickly went ahead of him to get the door and hold it for him.

            “I could have done that,” he breathed as they walked through the market outside the inn.

            “I’m just helping,” she shrugged and he nodded.

            “Thank you. Tilma taught me and Vilkas to always hold doors for ladies,” he said and Neri smiled at him.

            “Is Tilma your mother?”

            Farkas frowned and seemed to think hard about that. “Yes,” he finally decided and she wondered why he had to think about it if it were true. He didn’t seem like he was going to give any more explanation and she couldn’t help but smile at him some. “What?” he lifted a brow at her and she blinked.

            “Oh, I was… I was just thinking how different you are from Vilkas,” she shrugged.

            “Vilkas is a better talker than me, smarter,” he shrugged as if it didn’t bother him. “People like him more.”

            “What? That can’t be true,” she frowned and stopped walking. He paused and looked back at her, seeming surprised by her reaction. They were just outside Jorrvaskr, near the dying white tree. Farkas grunted and placed the keg down, and she felt bad for stopping, as it looked quite heavy.

            “I train, I fight,” Farkas shrugged. “Vilkas reads, he writes, he talks, he trains, he fights. People like that. I don’t care, Vilkas likes me, Kodlak likes me.”

            “I like you,” she said suddenly and he nodded, not taking it how she feared he might.

            “Lots of people like me,” he shrugged. “Just like Vilkas more.”

            She frowned again and crossed her arms, “But you’re much nicer than him.” He stared at her, not seeming to understand what that had to do with anything. “What makes you think people like him more?”

            Farkas looked down at the keg and then at her. “I’m not good at talking, sister. Can we go?”

            She flushed and felt her gaze on him soften. He looked uncomfortable, and she felt bad for badgering him. “I’m sorry, Farkas, yeah, we can go.”

            He nodded and picked up his keg before leading the way into Jorrvaskr. She let him grab the door for her and stepped in ahead of him. She walked with him to his room and helped him remove the empty barrel, place the new one, and accepted a drink when he tapped it.

            Her eyes wandered across the hall to the cracked doors of Vilkas’ room. Dim candles were lit, and she wondered if he was awake. Farkas didn’t do idle talk, and decided simply to voice his desire for sleep when it came, and she took her leave, finishing her drink and handing him the tankard. He closed his doors behind her and she stood in the hall, her gaze locked on the crack to Vilkas’s room.

            The letter next to her heart felt heavy now. She picked it up and looked at it. Why was it so hard for her to remember they were beasts? All of them?

            Well, the Circle at the least. Those with silver eyes….

            So far only Vilkas acted like a wolf, well, what she thought they should act like, and that seemed to only be half the time. When he acted like a man he was rather charming…

            Neri snapped her attention back to the paper in her hands. He’d said it himself, that he wanted to tear into her chest and feast on her heart. If he wouldn’t have swore to Aela that he’d bring her back she would be dead right now.

            That meant Aela thought he would kill her…. Aela had sent him with her…. Was Aela trying to get her killed? Or just use her as training for Vilkas?

            Neri felt sick, and tears filled her eyes. She swallowed and headed down the hall to her bed where she fell into it and rolled onto her side, holding the letter she wrote, rereading the words over and over to make sure she meant them all.

 

 

            _“Neriasa! Wake up, dear!”_

 _A smile split the dark elf’s lips, and she stretched as she allowed herself to wake up. Her feather bed was large enough two elk could sleep side by side in it_ with _her in the middle where she was now. Her crimson eyes flicked open and shut a few times to get used to the bright light streaming in from the open windows, and she playfully frowned at her mother. “It is too early…”_

_“Never to early, my dear,” the woman came over and sat on the bed, running her blue fingers through her daughter’s red hair. She smiled and sighed. “You’re so beautiful, Neriasa…”_

_“Stop it,” she breathed, flushing and pushing away her mother’s hand._

_“I will not,” the dark elf woman stood up and went to the wardrobe. “I think you need a new dress….”_

_“Mother…” Neriasa sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “I have too many dresses.”_

_“Well, maybe I’m planning something,” she grabbed a golden and cream length of fabric and Neri shot out of bed._

_“Wait, you’re not…”_

_“I am,” her mother smiled and Neri’s eyes widened, excitement spreading her lips._

_“Father found someone?”_

_“Yes…. A strong nord man,” her mother grinned and Neri nearly swayed._

_She didn’t know what to say, she hadn’t expected her parents to find her someone to marry so quickly in this new land. Since they had come to Skyrim they had been scrutinized for who they were, but their money bought them much leeway. Solitude was the obvious choice, and her father had a house built for them off the water. They only just moved in a few weeks ago._

_“What’s he like?” Neri caught her lip between her teeth as her mother helped her change out of her nightwear into the dress._

_“He’s like them all: tall, thick, and honorable.” Her mother sat her down in front of a mirror and Neri watched her mother start braiding her hair away from her face with expert fingers. “He’s a son of a Thane in Markarth…. Your father says you’d love the city.”_

_“Will we move there?”_

_“Perhaps. I want you to decide on this man first, though.” Her mother gripped her hair enough to hurt her, and she met her mother’s nearly black eyes in the mirror. “You get_ one _bad feeling about this man and we’re calling off the whole thing, yes?”_

_“I promise, mother,” Neri smiled and turned in her seat to look up at the other dark elf. “Don’t worry so much, father is a great judge of character.”_

_“I know…” her mother sighed and went back to brushing her hair and tying it into an ornate braid down her back. When she was done she used sweet smelling oils on her skin and placed a couple of scented flowers in her hair. “Oh… you look so beautiful, my dear…”_

_Neriasa stood up and hugged her mother. She was short enough that this put her head on the woman’s shoulder. They held each other for a long time and then Neri heard a sniff._

_“Mother, don’t cry,” she looked up at her. “I’m only meeting him today, right? Nothing’s official….”_

_“I know, you’re just growing up so fast…”_

_“It’s my human blood,” she whispered as if it were a secret, and her mother chuckled._

_“I knew I should have married an elf man….”_

_“But father loves you,” she said, it was the only reason she needed._

_“He does, now, let’s go see him and this nord man….”_

_Neriasa’s father was an imperial who stood mere inches taller than her mother, but held an air about him that demanded respect. Respect he often got. He had deep red hair that was worn long in his youth, but now was cut short and professional, with deep, dark brown eyes that always comforted Neriasa as she sat on his lap and listen to him speak. He was a very important merchant, skilled in a trade that held no interest for her, but she would always give him her ear when he asked._

_Now her father was approaching her with a towering man behind him. Neri let her eyes fall over the nord, his blonde hair worn long around his face and down to his shoulders, braided on the sides and swept back at the top. It was thick, and it was growing on his jaw just so. He already had a beard coming down enough to hide his neck from view, despite him looking no older than twenty. She was only eighteen, but her human blood helped to age her faster than her elf blood would. Months ago she’d started her first blood, and now she was able to bear children, so she needed to be married._

_Something she was looking forward to. And meeting the silver eyes of the nord only made her more excited._

_He was handsome and it took away her breath as he smiled and stepped up to her father’s side. “Neriasa, this is Thorbjorn, son of Torjar Golden-Hilt, Thane of Markarth, and the honorable House of the Reach,” he added the last part with a smile that Thorbjorn chuckled at._

_“The Silver-Bloods are far more prosperous than us through their mines, but they sink as deep as them,” he explained and Neriasa watched his thick lips move, getting lost in them._

_In a few moments she was left alone with the nord, allowed to walk the garden in view of a window where her mother would be watching, she was sure. Thorbjorn was a gentleman, and offered to sit beside her on a stone bench near the water. To her surprise, he asked her questions of herself and her family, and seemed very interested. Most nord men she’d seen enjoyed talking about themselves. She told him of her new life here and what she knew of her father’s work._

_When she finally got to asking him questions it was late, and he suggested they return to eat. She didn’t mind, she liked the time they’d spent together. During dinner Thorbjorn and her father spoke, she listened to what they had to say, and sat politely beside the nord. When he took his leave, he offered her knuckles a kiss, his silver eyes locked on her red ones the whole time he bowed in front of her._

_“This arrangement will be far better than I originally thought,” he whispered, sending a hot shudder up her spin as his breath washed over her hand._

_They met seven more times before he asked to marry her. It was a beautiful engagement, in front of his and her family, in the study, a fire burning brightly in the corner. Neriasa couldn’t have planned it better, and couldn’t stop herself from embracing her fiancé and kissing him. It was the first and only time she’d kissed a man in her life._

_The following night Neriasa’s father planned their route to Riften to have her and Thorbjorn married at the largest temple of Mara in Skyrim. She was asleep in her room, dreaming sweetly of her future life with her golden nord, and didn’t wake until the screaming started._

_Several beasts had descended on the Salvori house under the full moons. They slipped in through the windows and killed the guards, going unnoticed until one tore into Dexius Salvori –Neri’s father– waking her mother who was sleeping near by. Her screams echoed through the halls, and alerted the remaining staff. More screams, and Neri woke._

_She ran down the halls of her home, dodging bleeding bodies, and covering her screams as she witnessed man-wolves open up the torsos of people she knew. Her feet took her to her parents’ room, where she found her mother hanging off of the bed with a gold-coated man-wolf burying its muzzle in her. Her father was torn in half near by, still as stone –dead._

_Neri screamed and the wolf looked up to see her, its crimson lips pulling back over dripping fangs. She was frozen in place. Fear rolling off of her. Her body shaking._

_It stepped down from the bed and she looked at it. It towered over her; blonde paws stained red, claws dripping blood onto the stone floor, golden eyes reflecting the candlelight. Its ears were folded back, its back hunched forward, its front paws nearly dragging as it took careful steps toward her._

_Hot, salty tears slid down her cheeks as she stared up at the animal in front of her. It stopped with little distance between them, its breath washed over her, smelling sickly of blood and uncooked meat. Not just meat. Her parents._

_The wolf grabbed her and threw her across the room, into a wall. Neriasa gasped and tried to stand. Her mother taught her magic while she was growing up, but only two kinds –fire and healing. She cast the later just as the wolf came again, sweeping its bloody paw wide to catch her face and bring her to the ground._

_Weakly, she summoned the spell and cried out, trying to throw a fireball at the beast, but it pinned her hand down with a foot and then put its front paw on her healing hand. She cried out and tried to look up, to see what it was doing. She felt its claw rip into the fabric of her dress, into her skin._

_She screamed and her flesh lit up. Fire burned bright and the wolf howled, jerking away from her. Neri gasped and looked at herself, the flames didn’t hurt her, and she realized she’d gotten her mother’s gift. The wrath of her ancestors saved her._

_The beast ran from her, as she was no longer prey._

_Come morning, the Solitude guard had finished doing what investigation they could, and Neri was left in the massive house her father had built. She was alone, the staff either dead, in a temple for healing, or run off. Her thoughts went to Thorbjorn, her fiancé, so she set out for Markarth._

_On her way she found the Golden-Hilt family’s cart, all of them dead and torn to shreds. She couldn’t tell the bodies apart, as faces were smashed and the bodies had been opened up like what happened at her home. She mourned for her fiancé, and their families._

_Returning to Solitude, she made plans to find out what these beasts were, and how to destroy them so this could never happen again._


	6. Crimson Desires from Deep Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...I have need to speak with her, so if you don’t mind,” he started down the stairs.
> 
> “She’s gone,” Skjor said and leaned against the wall. “Off to start her Trial.”
> 
> Vilkas frowned at them. He thought he would have accompanied her, he told the rest of the Circle how their trip had faired, and been honest with her use of magic, but restraint once he spoke up about it. He had all but planned to go with her, almost… was excited for it. Aela smirked at his confusion and said, “She asked to go with Farkas.”
> 
> That was almost like a blow to the heart.

**Vilkas**

            The whelp was coming in from outside when he made it upstairs. Vilkas glanced her way and noticed she was frowning: something she didn’t do often anymore. His curiosity got the best of him, and he slid into the chair beside her when she sat at the table. Her back had been to him and her eyes down cast, so she hadn’t noticed him until he spoke up.

            “Something wrong, new blood?”

            She jumped and looked him over as if he had simply appeared there. “Oh, no, it’s nothing,” she lied. He could see it in how she averted her gaze and bit her lip. His silver eyes fell down to them, and he felt his chest tighten. Her scent filled his nose, sweet like wild flowers and plains grass –she’d been out in the tundra recently. She also smelled scared, but it wasn’t fear, it was… worry?

            “Don’t lie to me, Sister,” he said softly, deciding not to chide her. He could hear her heart skip, and smell the faint wave of pleasure that rolled off of her before it subsided and she looked down at the plate before her.

            “I had a nightmare,” she finally confessed and took some bread and meat, placing it on her platter.

            Vilkas nodded and took the loaf she was reaching for, broke it, and offered her half. She took it with a whisper of thanks and he placed the other half on his plate. “I too suffer from nightmares…. Quite often,” he breathed and picked up a pheasant breast. “I usually speak with Kodlak or Farkas about them. It helps me.”

            “I’ve never had anyone to tell about them,” she sighed and cut slowly into her horker loaf. He watched how she held her cutlery so carefully, in a way that high bloods did.

            “You can talk to any of us, Sister,” he said and she looked at him. Her heart skipped again and he decided it wasn’t a coincidence. It happened whenever he called her that: she liked it.

            “I thought I wasn’t a Sister in Honor until my Trial?”

            Vilkas rolled his shoulders and gestured around to the others who were eating on the other end of the table. “We’re all brothers and sisters, until we aren’t. It would be foolish of me to think you won’t pass your Trial,” he explained and looked back at her. “You take my words to heart, and that shows me you’re serious about being a Companion. A few around here could learn that skill,” his eyes landed on Torvar who was already drinking. He still wasn’t sure why they let him in, but Vilkas had been off with Ria on her first hunt when he was passed from training into his Trial. There was nothing he could do at that point, and it would have been disrespectful to voice his opinion anyway.

            The dark elf took back his attention when she spoke, “No one would want to listen to my dreams, anyway. They’re rather foolish,” she sighed and Vilkas frowned at her.

            Her crimson eyes were down on her food, her lips pursed, and her hand shook slightly. “Don’t say that, if you fear it, you have a reason,” he said, and rested his hand on her shoulder. She wore a simple shirt and pants, ill fitting, as was all of her clothing it seemed. Her hair had been hastily braided up, away from her face, and he wondered how it would feel to run his fingers through it.

            The whelp looked up at him and let the corner of her lips turn up just enough to comfort him. “Thank you, Brother.”

            He nodded, feeling his chest tighten again. Her voice was soft, low, and had more of a Skyrim accent than she most likely cared to admit. He wondered how it would sound if she said his name… whispered it…

            “I’m here if you need someone to talk to, new blood,” he breathed and took a bite of his pheasant, removing his hand from her.

            She smelled of fear now, and he looked at her, his brows falling heavily. She stared at her food, determined not to look away. Tears filled her eyes and he shifted, turning toward her. He didn’t say any more, and waited, his gaze flicking up to make sure no one was watching them. She whimpered and his hand begged him to reach out, but he held it tight against his thigh.

            “I… I dreamed of when my parents were killed,” she finally said and Vilkas could smell the terror rolling off of her. He wanted to ignore how sweet it smelled, he wanted to listen to her, to be here, but his head grew light as she continued. “I lost everything that day, my parents, my fiancé… my courage,” she glanced at him. Her fear thickened when their eyes met and she stood up suddenly. “I’m– I have to go.”

            He clenched his jaw and watched her leave, unable to say anything, if he opened his mouth his teeth would change. Her scent lingered behind to taunt him, and he closed his eyes, trying to will himself to turn back to his food, to stand up and go outside, to go back to his room and read, to do _anything_ but sit here and take in her terror.

            “Vilkas?”

            Kodlak’s hand came down on his shoulder and the younger man nearly gasped, looking up at the old nord with shame filled eyes. “Help me,” he breathed, desperately.

 

 

            When Vilkas came back inside from training with Ria and Torvar he tried to find the whelp. He needed to apologize, or… try to, for how he’d acted. He and Kodlak had sat and talked for a long time. Vilkas told him how he was drawn to her because of the wolf, but Kodlak seemed to think there was more –but when Vilkas asked he simply smiled at him and told him he had to discover that on his own. Speaking with the old man seemed to always be just what he needed, and afterwards he got back to his duties, training the new recruits, though the only one he wanted to see hadn’t been there.

            Aela and Skjor were speaking in a corner near the stairs and as he passed, the huntress called out to him. “Phew, what’s that I smell?”

            Skjor glanced up and chuckled, “Not a scent I would have thought to smell on you, Brother.”

            Vilkas paused and looked at them, frowning, “What?”

            “You smell of your desire, Vilkas. Is it for the whelp?” Aela grinned and crossed her arms.

            His glare was so heavy it hurt him. “I have no desires for the new blood,” he growled. “But I have need to speak with her, so if you don’t mind,” he started down the stairs.

            “She’s gone,” Skjor said and leaned against the wall. “Off to start her Trial.”

            Vilkas frowned at them. He thought he would have accompanied her, he told the rest of the Circle how their trip had faired, and been honest with her use of magic, but restraint once he spoke up about it. He had all but planned to go with her, almost… was excited for it. Aela smirked at his confusion and said, “She asked to go with Farkas.”

            That was almost like a blow to the heart. He blinked, trying to hide the hurt he suddenly felt, and looked away from them. “How long will they be gone?”

            “That depends on them, Farkas could have this job done in… four days? The whelp may take longer,” she shrugged and Skjor nodded.

            “She doesn’t slow anyone down,” Vilkas growled, and received lifted brows from the other two. Of course Aela had set that up, her triumphant smile sickened Vilkas.

            “Continue to defend her, Brother. Don’t worry,” she stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, “we won’t tell her of your desires.”

            He bared his teeth at her and hissed. She showed hers back and Skjor stepped forward. “All right you two,” he grunted and put a hand on the huntress’s shoulder, pulling her back toward him. Vilkas watched how her rear pressed to his side, and he picked up on the subtle crave that fell off the female.

            “When will you be heading out?” he asked, addressing Skjor. “Normally when she’s in heat you two have already departed.”

            Aela snapped forward, but Skjor held her back and frowned at Vilkas. “Watch yourself, Brother.”

            “You two sneak around, act like the old man and I don’t know what you’re really doing when you leave on these hunting trips,” Vilkas’s voice was low, a throated growl. “I don’t _care_ , but don’t bring me into it. And don’t talk about the whelp.”

            “Claim her before someone else does,” Aela snarled. “Last thing we need is Farkas getting the same feelings as you then you two killing each other over her.”

            Vilkas’s inner wolf howled and he felt the heat of change coming onto him. Skjor and Aela could smell it, she backed off and Skjor looked around before resting a hand on his shoulder. “Calm yourself, Brother, this isn’t the place…”

            He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, his hands running through his dark hair. “I apologize, Aela,” he grunted and she sighed.

            “I am sorry, Brother. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

            Skjor’s hand slid off Vilkas’s shoulder and he looked his Brother over. “It would be wise for you to figure out your feelings before speaking with the new blood again. She is proving herself quickly, and may find a seat within the Circle–”

            “No,” Vilkas barked and regretted it.

            “Why?”

            The reason was selfish. He couldn’t tell them he didn’t want her to be a wolf simply because he didn’t think he could withhold himself from her then. He wasn’t stupid; he knew he was drawn to her as much as a man as he was as a wolf. But if she became like him… the wolf would want her for other reasons.

            Vilkas made a throated sound and turned away, leaving them in favor of his room.

 

 

            He missed her. It was so _stupid_ of him. She wasn’t even gone a day and he was worried and resisting running out to Dustman’s Cairn to check on her. It was because of that spell she used on him. It had to be. He didn’t feel this way until she did that.

            This was why he didn’t like magic.

            Ria got in a strike and Vilkas grunted. “Finally got you, are you distracted, Brother?” she lifted a brow and he sighed, lowering his sword.

            “Aye, but that was a good strike, don’t doubt yourself,” he stepped forward and used the flat of his blade to urge her widen her stance. “Remember, when you have a big, heavy weight swinging around your upper body, your lower body has to compensate, or you'll fall right over.”

            “Aye,” she nodded and then frowned. “The new blood reached her Trial quickly. I noticed she and Athis practicing… she’s not very good with a blade….”

            Vilkas frowned at her, “What’re you getting at?”

            She gulped and looked away, her flash of fear filling the air. It didn’t hold a candle to the scent the dark elf gave off. “Nothing, really. It took me two months to go on my Trial, and I know how to use a sword–”

            “We were training you as well as Torvar and that milk drinking quitter Kesh’ja. Had we been able to focus on you one at a time like we have her, then you may have gone on your Trial more quickly.” He could feel his defense for the whelp swell, but he had to give Ria real reasons, not his personal beliefs.

            She nodded, still frowning, but said no more. To be honest, he knew that the reason the dark elf was progressing so quickly was because –despite the fear she showed around him– she was just what a Companion was. Ria was… young, and Torvar was a drunk. Neriasa was determined, did what she was told eagerly, but also held independence and showed she could work as a team as well as alone. Ria had been timid when she came here, and Torvar… was just… Torvar. They had less to learn in skill, but more in heart, and as Kodlak had said, the heart was what mattered.

            “That’s enough from me for today, Sister,” Vilkas put his sword on his back and relaxed his shoulders. “Practice on your own, or with Torvar some.”

            “Aye,” she breathed and watched him return inside.

            He was hungry, but he didn’t think he could eat. He just wanted to go back to his room and read until Neriasa got back. As he trotted down the stairs he tried to decide on a book, but he ended up stopping outside the door to the shared bedroom of the members outside the Circle. He wandered up the beds and paused at the back corner cot. It smelled of her, and he knelt beside it, closing his eyes. Her face filled his mind’s eye. He took her pillow and held it up to his face gently.

            Vilkas felt a soft whimper rise from his chest as he sucked in a deep breath, taking in the ever-faint smell of lavender in her hair and the sweetness her skin gave off. He placed the pillow back where it was and stood up, going back to his room. When he was there he closed and locked the door, then stripped down out of his armor. Before he replaced his clothes he stood in the dim of his room, looking down at himself.

            He was fully erect, and his mind flashed the image of Neriasa kneeling before him as she had to retrieve her bag in Rorikstead. He imagined her eyes wide as they stared up at him, her small, ashen hands holding his length to her pout lips. He closed his eyes and held himself; the image seemed so real. It was perfect.

            Her hands began to move along him, and her hot breath washed over his lower head. Her tongue slipped out to lick it gently, teasing him, and he growled down at her, watching as she cupped his balls and smiled up at him. Her smile crinkled the scars on the side of her face, and he ran the back of his fingers over them gently. Her face tilted into his palm and she kissed it, her eyes locked on his.

            No longer did their color disturb him, now he got lost in them, how they were more like the auroras in the sky than pools of blood. Crimson and scarlet with their own light, and when she smiled they twinkled. He wanted to lean down to kiss her, but her hands on him stopped him, and her lips parted so she could press them against his head.

            A soft growl rumbled in his chest as she lowered her head onto him farther, her tongue rubbing against the underside of his length. Vilkas let his hand rest on her head and slip into her hair, her braids having long fallen out, leaving the red a mess of curls as it tumbled over her shoulders and framed her face.

            She was beautiful.

            It didn’t take him nearly as long as it should have to come, and when he did his eyes snapped open, breaking the dream, and causing him to whimper pathetically. He’d never touched himself to a women he knew, and now he felt a swell of regret and shame. Vilkas growled softly to himself and cleaned up before dressing himself and opening his door to keep from causing himself anymore self-hate.

            Then he planted himself in his bed with a book about the legend of the Dragonborn. He wouldn’t move from this spot for the rest of the night.

 

 

            Vilkas threw the sword again and watched the last of the dummies flop to the ground, sliced in half. He growled wordlessly and stared up at the sky. Neriasa had been gone for just over four days now. He worried something had happened. He couldn’t even train Ria or Torvar without nearly turning it into a legitimate fight. Torvar was still nursing the wound Vilkas had given him. He decided it was best to stick to shadow training with them for now.

            But they had long gone to bed, and he was outside alone, training in the darkness under the new moons. He had lost his want for food and only been drinking when his mouth went dry. Tilma had shaved him yesterday as his face had gone without a good cut for longer than she liked on him. He never cared for the long beards his race favored, it always made his jaw itch, and when he changed –on the rare occasion– it would rough up his jaw as a wolf as well. He could only image what the Kodlak’s beast form looked like with his amount of hair and beard…

            Vilkas put his sword down and went over to grab a new pillar and build more training dummies. He might as well keep himself busy. He couldn’t sleep, and wasn’t the least bit tired.

            An hour later he had two dummies up, all they needed was the soft, hay filled, sack body parts. He left the sewing to Tilma and knew he would have to wait in that until morning. So he went up to the Skyforge and sat down at the grindstone to sharpen his sword, using the materials that Eorlund had lying around. He had little skill with smithing, but he could sharpen his own sword when there wasn’t a whelp to send off to do it.

            He smiled faintly at that thought, of how Neriasa had been when she first got there. Hard to tell it had only been three weeks. She seemed so different, her fear was waning, save a few times when he did something to cause it, and her fighting was only getting better. He knew if he got the time to train with her she would learn swiftly, faster than his other students.

            A breeze brought with it two scents he knew well. Vilkas shot to his feet and stepped up to the top of the stairs to look down on Jorrvaskr. Farkas was walking beside Neriasa, her head was down, and her feet seemed to be dragging. Farkas looked fine, though, and opened the door to the mead hall for her. Vilkas felt his heart race and he looked down at his word. He should really finish sharpening it….

            But he wanted to see her, to speak with her….

            A growl rumbled up his chest and he clenched his jaw and returned to the grindstone. He couldn’t rush the processes, but he knew this would give her time to settle in, and part from his brother. He shouldn’t go to her upon her return anyway, it would make it seem as if he’d been waiting for her.

            He had been, but she didn’t have to know that.

            Vilkas finished with his blade and quickly trotted down the stairs to the mead hall, sliding in while trying to hide his eagerness. No one was in the main hall, so he descended the stairs and paused to listen.

            “…Thank you, Farkas, I think I’m going to go to bed.”

            “All right, Sister. I’ll tell the Circle what happened, be ready in the morning.”

            “Aye…”

            Vilkas’s brows pulled together and he started up the hall toward his room. After a moment the whelp stepped into view and looked up at him, her eyes widening in surprise.

            “Oh, Brother,” the corners of her lips lifted and he smiled at her.

            “How was your Trial?” he asked, shifting so that he could put his sword on his back. She looked him over and he felt his heart pick up. He was wearing his armor, but he hadn’t eaten or slept in a few days, he was sure he didn’t look all that healthy. She didn’t look much better.

            Her cheeks were flushed, but thinned slightly, and she had circles under her crimson eyes. Her hair was stained and matted, dirty and dusty, and her face was grimy. Her armor was in an even worse state than it had been before. He could see the flesh of the top of her breast where the leather had been sliced open, and he quickly looked back at her face.

            She looked sad now, but covered it with a shrug and a forced yawn, “I would say it went smoother than our trip, seeing as I didn’t get knocked out this time.”

            He nodded and took a step closer to her, he had missed her so much he didn’t want to part ways yet. “So you passed?”

            “Farkas seems to think so,” she shrugged again and her eyes fell down his front, looking at his armor, and then she peeked up at him through her lashes. His mind drifted to the image of her kneeling, holding him, kissing him…. He took a slow breath in through clenched teeth and looked down into those crimson auroras.

            “Come with me, I want to show you something,” he said softly. “Unless you’re tired….”

            She blinked and smiled a little, “I’m not tired.”

            Vilkas lead her out of the city to the crossroads and then up the eastern path, then south toward the waterfalls.

            “What’re we doing here?”

            “Swimming,” he stated and removed his sword and scabbard from his back.

            “What?” she looked at him in shock, then at the water. “It’s freezing!”

            “The cold can’t touch me,” he stepped a little closer to her and tilted his head to the side as he looked down at her. She stood so that her face was just below his ribs, her chin in his stomach if he were to pull her closer. “And you command fire, so you can warm yourself.”

            “Companions don’t use magic,” she said and he smiled widely, showing his teeth with his pride in her.

            “Aye, they don’t.”

            Then he began to remove his armor and she turned away, her face going red in the light of the stars. He could see her well with his beast’s eyes, but she would have more trouble in the darkness without Secunda and Masser’s light. He dropped the steel and stood before her in the simple clothes he wore under his armor. He removed the shirt and pants leaving him in the last, small shred of fabric he had and stepped off the riverside into the freezing water.

            When he came back up he smiled at the elf who was gaping at him. “You’ll catch ill!” she yelled at him and looked around to see if anyone was near by.

            The water came down from the mountains and he could feel it. Even with his nord blood warming him, the water was cold, but it felt nice against his skin. It was clean, clear, and crisp. “Come on, whelp,” he called and ducked under the water, washing off the last of his eye paint, as he did so.

            This time when he came back up she was mumbling while removing her armor, carefully, piece by piece. He smiled and watched her. How she bent to unlatch her boots before kicking them off, and then when she shifted her weight to one leg while she unbuckled her gauntlets. When it came to her chest piece, she paused and glanced at him. “Look away!” she called, and shifted her ashen legs rubbing together in embarrassment. He smirked and turned his back to her, deciding to wash off some of his sweat from the past few days.

            There was a splash behind him, and he turned. Red hair burst through the surface of the water, and the elf gasped, her jaw automatically chattering. He laughed and swam over to her.

            “I–I c-c-c–can’t believe–ve I,” she clamped her mouth shut and crossed her arms over her chest to try to retain her core temperature.

            Vilkas held her forearms with his warm hands and then pulled her closer to him. “Here, _elf_ ,” he chuckled and she seemed to try to say something smart, but her jaw wouldn’t steady enough for her to speak clearly. She pressed to his chest and he let his arms drift down to her sides to hold her better. Though he was standing on the bottom, her feet brushed his knees. The water still came up to their shoulders, and she moved from having her hands tucked into the pit of her arms, up to rest them on his chest.

            “Y–you damn–mn n-n-nords!” He tilted his head at her.

            “Going to curse the only thing keeping you warm?” he started to pull away and she grabbed his shoulders, her small hands looking for a hold on his muscle. He chuckled and she stuttered a swear. His hands were on her hips, but he wanted to wrap them around her more. She looked down between them, and moved her touch up his neck to better hold against him.

            Finally he adjusted his hands and pressed them to the space between her shoulder blades and the small of her back. She made a soft noise of pleasure, and he could smell the confirmation when she tilted her head to the side, eyes closed as she focused on warming herself against him. His breathing was picking up, and his head grew light as he looked down at her. Her jaw was starting to steady now that she was adjusting to the temperature, and her legs were drifting up to his sides to secure her position against the current of the waterfall.

            Without his permission he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the pulsing vein in her neck. A flash of fear filled his nose, and he stiffened, worried he’d done something wrong. Her hands on his neck tightened, and her legs clenched his sides. Vilkas let his hot breath wash over her neck, and kept his face there, not willing to move until he was certain of her feelings. Her breathing resumed and the fear slowly gave to pleasure when he kissed the vein again.

            Her skin was sweet, and the wolf within begged to taste her, but he couldn’t. He refused to even lick her. But the soft, gentle kisses he trailed along the tendon that lined her neck was enough to make them both groan. One of her hands slid up into his hair and tangled in it, finding a good grip at the roots behind his head.

            “Mmm,” she whispered when he found his way up to the corner of her jaw, right below her small, pointed ear. He placed a hard kiss there, his nose pressed into her hair.

            He was growing excited, but the cold bit at it, and kept him from acting too quickly. She had yet to voice her wishes, and he could never make a move without her permission. Her pleasure filled his nose, causing his eyes to roll back.

            Vilkas gave in and spoke, unable to withhold his feelings any more, “I missed you so, Neriasa….”

            He could just hear the sound of her heart skip it’s galloping beat over the waterfall. The scent that rolled off of her burned his nose and threatened to wake his wolf. He shouldn’t have said her name, she liked it even more than when he called her Sister.

            “I wish you would have come with me,” she breathed into his ear and he fought down the growl that was rumbling in his chest. “Vilkas…”

            He pulled back just enough to look at her face. She bit her lip, catching the lower with taunting teeth. Her doe’s eyes watching him, waiting to see what he’d do. He wanted to do so many things. He wanted to have her kneel before him, he wanted his face between her legs, he wanted to take her here just like this in the water.

            But he wouldn’t. It wasn’t right, not now. So he settled on the one thing that might be right.

            Vilkas slid a hand up her back and held her hair and neck, then he leaned in, slow enough to give her time to resist, and kissed her. His lips touched hers lightly, and their eyes closed. She kissed him back, her hands on his neck tight, her fingers in his hair pulling him closer. He opened his mouth and she slipped her tongue in, finding his to dance. The beat of her heart pounded in his head as their breathing mixed, making his head spin.

            Neriasa’s scent was the sweetest thing he’d ever taken in, and he was drawn to it like nothing else. He didn’t think he could live another day without smelling it, it would be like asking him to live without the sun. There was nothing he wanted more than this woman now.

            A growl shook him, and he held her tighter, possessively, making the kiss mean more. Startled, she started to pull away, and, with a great effort, he let her. They both gasped and tried to catch their breaths, still holding each other as if their strength relied on the other.

            “That…” she breathed and looked everywhere but into his eyes.

            He tilted his face and brushed their lips together again. She flushed brightly and he said nothing, watching her as he held her. He was perfectly content, and had no motive to move.

            “We… should get back to Jorrvaskr…” Neriasa said, clearing her throat, and he nodded, sighing as he carried her up to the riverside and placed her on the grass. She shook from the bite of the air and watched him climb up beside her. He looked over at her and she reached out, brushing a strand of his hair out of his face. Before she withdrew her hand he kissed her palm, causing her breath to catch.


	7. Silver Touches Burning Sweetly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor,” Kodlak gestured to her, and Neri’s gaze fell back on him, smiling shyly. “Who will speak for her?”

**Neri**

            Neri’s letter had found the Silver-Hand quicker than she thought, and when she and Farkas arrived at Dustman’s Cairn they were both attacked. She couldn’t believe that her people would attack her without hesitation…. She didn’t know these men, they didn’t know her, but hadn’t Luthrak told them?

            Luthrak had sent her on this mission, sent her to the Companions. But now the Silver-Hand agents were… _attacking_ her and Farkas. She had to… she had to kill them. Farkas didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, and was more than happy to tear through the hostile men and women.

            Neri didn’t know what to do at first, she just stood back at the entrance to the tomb and watched as they descended on the Companion. It wasn’t until an archer shot her that she realized they were going to kill her as well. She cut down her fellow Silver-Hand leaving a sick feeling in her stomach every time she swung her axe.

            They were nearly overwhelmed, at one point, Neri and Farkas were in a large, circular room with a locked gate keeping them from continuing. Neri had just found and pulled a lever to open the gate –but also locking herself in the alcove she was in– when ten Silver-Hand came rushing through the gate she’d opened. They didn’t even look at her, just at the Companion, speaking amongst themselves –one even saying if he wore the wolf armor he dies. Farkas turned then, after promising it would be _them_ who died, not him.

            Neri had never imagined the actual change, but as she watched, she felt a mix of terror and… interest.

            The wolf seemed to tear through the man, but the wolf armor didn’t shred, it… worked with the wolf. It seemed to fade and allow the wolf to take over, while the man cried out and disappeared in the mess of black fur and muscle. When the transformation was complete the wolf-man threw his head back and howled, sending a wave over the Silver-Hand and Neri.

            She fell back, fear taking over. She could see it in the wolf hunters as well, but they leapt forward and attacked the beast. Their silver swords cut into him, but his claws sliced them open faster, spilling their guts onto the floor and severing limbs. Neri looked away from the carnage and tried to cover her ears from the screams. She didn’t even notice when they stopped and Farkas knelt beside her, pulling her hands from her ears. She nearly ran from him, but he calmed her, swearing he’d never hurt her.

            He didn’t have blood on his face, he didn’t eat any of them. When she asked he explained he didn’t feel the call of the blood, not like the others, he could kill without feasting. When she asked about the others he confirmed the Circle were all wolves, but not everyone knew, so she had to keep it to herself. She promised him she wouldn’t tell anyone and he smiled, helping her up.

            Farkas made very little conversation as they went through the rest of the crypt, having to deal with more draugr and less Silver-Hand as they got deeper. She should have known that sending the letter and telling Luthrak of the location of the fragments would end with them meeting her and her Shield-Brother here. Part of her had just hoped they would either beat them or find another plan to steal the fragments.

            “Seems to be as far as they got,” Farkas commented while opening the door that lead down a deep hallway. Spider webs littered the walls and Neri shuddered.

            “This can’t be good…”

            And it wasn’t.

            Seven over-sized spiders later, and she and Farkas were picking webbing off of each other’s armor and out of each other’s hair. He decided, if he could help it, he’d never deal with the ‘crawling ones’ again. She whole-heartedly agreed and they pressed on, finding the fragments on a table beside a massive inscription wall. She couldn’t read it, nor did she try, and quickly picked up the fragments to place them in her bag. Farkas smiled and turned in time to dodge a draugr’s sarcophagus seal falling down where he’d just been standing.

            Farkas grabbed his sword and Neri took hold of her axes. They had to fight through near twenty draugr as the whole room spilled them out, one after another. Much to her comfort, Farkas didn’t turn again, instead, he swung his great sword in skilled sweeps to take legs out and split spines. She went for limbs and necks with her axes, finding that draugr only knew simple fighting styles and offered practice a step above training dummies.

            A day and a half walk _to_ Dustman’s Cairn, a day _in_ Dustman’s Cairn –once they’d finished with the draugr she and Farkas found a safe place that the Silver-Hand had used as a camp and slept in their bedrolls– and a day and a half walk _back_ from Dustman’s Cairn, and Neri’s Trial was complete.

            They got back to Jorrvaskr early enough in the morning no Companions were awake, and that suited her just fine. As nice as it was to be received and praised after a long journey, she was much too tired and ill feeling. She’d had to kill her own people… they hadn’t even hesitated. Another letter would be written and sent to Luthrak, she needed to tell him what happened and demand to meet with someone about it.

            She and Farkas went to his room to unload the supplies they’d taken, and she gave him the fragments. He told her how great of a job she did and he would tell the Circle in the morning. Tomorrow she would be accepted into the Companions as an official member. It meant a lot to her, but she didn’t feel well enough to want to celebrate with him over a drink, so she took her leave of him and went to retreat to her bed.

            Only to meet Vilkas in the hall looking like he had just finished some late night training. He looked… nearly ill –but she knew wolves couldn’t get sick. His eye paint could barely hide the rings under his eyes from lack of sleep and his skin had a sickly pale undertone, like he hadn’t been eating. The moment they looked at each other, eyes locking, she felt better, and his skin took on a better hue.

           

 

            Neriasa couldn’t slow her heart rate. Vilkas had kissed her in the water –more than just a kiss. He had kissed up her neck, under her ear, and… then her lips. She never dreamed of being kissed like that –well, dreamed maybe, but only after reading some things like the Lust Argonian Maid.

            And she’d kissed him back.

            That was the part that surprised her most.

            When they got to the riverside and he said they were swimming she hadn’t expected it to progress into him holding her. He was so… gentle. And his hands never wandered, which surprised her. Jamir never got to hold her like Vilkas had and he _still_ tried to get a hand full of her.

            Neri had only ever kissed Thorbjorn in her life, and it had been a quick touch of lips in celebration of their engagement. What had happened between her and Vilkas was more than that. It meant something, and she wanted to know what it was.

            Everything in the back of her mind was fighting her though.

            He was a wolf. A beast just like what Farkas turned into. Unlike Farkas he felt the call of the blood, and it seemed like out of them all he struggled with it the most. But while they were together he didn’t seem affected by it. Maybe it was because of the missing moons? They’d been black in the night sky, and perhaps that had freed him of their call.

            Their walk back to Jorrvaskr was long, as they’d taken their time. He used his shirt to dry her off and helped her redress in her leather –adding that she needed to get something new, something heavy. She didn’t know how she felt about getting heavy armor, but he told her he’d teach her how to wear it.

            Vilkas’s large hand stroked her hand, and his rough knuckles brushed her scars, his silver eyes locked on her while he spoke. She found the longer she looked into them, the more she wanted him to kiss her again.

            When they made it back to the mead hall and he departed from her after walking her to her door, she had to resist the urge to follow behind him to his room. Her bed felt cold and lonely –despite the other Companions sleeping noisily around her. Sleep didn’t find Neri until the sun came up.

 

 

            “Brothers and Sisters of the Circle,” Kodlak smiled, addressing those around him. All the Companions who weren’t on jobs were here, watching as Neri was made an official member, but the Circle were those at the front. Kodlak stood across from her, while Aela and Skjor stood to her right, and Vilkas and Farkas to her left. They made a circle this way, and Neri tried to slow her heart.

            She hadn’t slept long, but it had been a good sleep. Her dream was lost to her, but she didn’t mind. Her eyes flickered up to Vilkas who was closest to her left, but his gaze was locked on Kodlak as he spoke, the twin’s usual brooding look plastered to his face. Farkas –who stood between his brother and the Harbinger– was smiling though, looking between her and the old man. When her crimson gaze shifted to Aela on her right she returned the comforting smile the nord woman gave.

            “Today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor,” Kodlak gestured to her, and Neri’s gaze fell back on him, smiling shyly. “Who will speak for her?”

            Farkas spoke up, “I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us.”

            “Would you raise your shield in her defense?” the Harbinger asked, and Neri looked to the twin. Vilkas, out of the corner of her eye, shifted, almost looking upset. She tried to ignore it, now wasn’t the time to think of him.

            “I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us,” Farkas answered.

            “And would you raise your sword in her honor?”

            “It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes.”

            “And would you raise a mug in her name?”

            “I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories.”

            “Then the judgment of this Circle is complete. Her heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call.”

            “It shall be so,” the Companions said together, and Neri felt her heart swell. She never imagined she would become a full member of the Companions.

            Aela turned to her and wrapped an arm around her, “We should go hunting to celebrate, new blood. I know of a valley where the deer are as fat as house cats.”

            Skjor chuckled, “Let her be, Aela, allow her to celebrate how she wishes.”

            The huntress waved him off and rested a hand on Neri’s head. “Come and find me later, I wish to buy you a drink.”

            “Aye,” Neri smiled and watched them leave. She turned to Vilkas who was giving her a soft smile, but Farkas grabbed his shoulder and pushed him some.

            “Brother, I have need to speak with you.”

            “Can’t it wait?” Vilkas frowned but Neri’s attention was pulled from them when Kodlak stepped up to her.

            “Well, girl, you’re one of us now. I trust you won’t disappoint,” he smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder. She smiled up and him, and they started to walk toward the Skyforge. Neri glanced back to see Vilkas watching her, his lips turned down, but his brother demanded his attention again.

            “What does it mean to be a Companion?” she breathed, returning her attention to the Harbinger.

            “It means living such that your Shield-Siblings would proudly say the fought at your side. Glory in battle, honor in life. Deal with problems head on. Leave whispers and sneaking to the gutter rats who can’t fight for themselves.” She nodded her understanding and they ascended the stairs toward the forge.

            “Is it true that the Circle are werewolves?” she whispered, suddenly. She found it hard to believe this old man was one of them. But he had the same silver eyes as the others, and wore the wolf armor.

            “I see that you have been allowed to know secrets before your time,” he sighed, a frown hidden under his beard.

            “Farkas turned when we were nearly overtaken by Silver-Hand,” she defended the twin. “Please don’t fault him, I was locked behind a gate and I–”

            “Calm,” he whispered, and she did, looking up into his hooded eyes. “I know Farkas, he would not have turned had he felt there was another way.”

            Neri nodded, and looked down at the space between them. “Will… I become a werewolf?”

            The man chuckled, and she looked up at him. “That, girl, is not something we take lightly. No one is speaking of that now. Only members of the Circle have the beast blood, and there will be some time before you could be considered for that,” he rested a hand on her head. “Though you have progressed quickly. Don’t worry yourself. Eyes on the prey, not the horizon. The future is for wise men to ponder, the rest of us take life one day at a time.”

            She nodded and smiled at him.

            “Now, onto an important matter that has bothered me since you walked into Jorrvaskr,” he said and stepped up to Eorlund who stood from where he was sharpening a new pair of axes. “These are for you, I see you favor them, aye?”

            Neri’s heart leapt into the air and she took a shy step forward. They’d made her new axes? “I… I couldn’t afford these…”

            “Sure you could,” Eorlund laughed. “I only charge the Companions a beggar’s wage for steel, so long as they assist me when I ask. Besides that, these are a gift, welcome to the Companions, new blood.”

            Neri stepped forward and Eorlund offered his hands to take her old steel axes. She handed them over without hesitation. “I won’t be needing those,” she smiled and he nodded.

            “If that’s the case I’ll use them to make new weapons.” He looked at the craftsmanship and flinched. “The steelsmith who made these should be cut down.”

            Neri flushed. The Silver-Hand weren’t well known for their smithing. “Thank you,” she breathed as Kodlak handed her the Skyforged steel axes. “Do they have names?”

            “That’s up to you, girl,” the Harbinger said and she looked them over.

            They were a perfect pair, mirroring each other, and she noticed the pommels were odd. “What…?”

            “Ah, yes, I almost forgot,” Eorlund sat her old weapons down and she handed him the new ones. “You’ll have to train carefully,” he warned, “But you don’t have to use them this way if you wish not to.” The pommels locked together and Eorlund showed them, switching the blades back and forth in his hands and turning them around. “They come together with a twist, and just turn the opposite way to unlock them. This guard here keeps it from turning in combat. It will take some time for you to be able to adjust them quickly while fighting, but in the mean time,” he turned the weapons and they came apart, “You have two axes.”

            Neri gaped at the man and Kodlak smiled. “Now, for the real reason I came here with you,” Kodlak added and the dark elf nearly fainted.

            “There’s more?”

            “Aye,” he chuckled. “I wish to buy her some armor, the best you can craft, Eorlund.”

            “Oh, Harbinger, I couldn’t,” she protested, placing the axes in the rings on her hips. They felt so different from her other weapons, and she wondered how different they’d feel when she started to use them to fight.

            “Please,” Kodlak waved a hand at her and addressed the smith. “Measure her, and decide between you on what sort you shall make, but I would like it complete as soon as possible.”

            “Aye,” Eorlund turned to Neri and she watched the Harbinger leave. “What sort of armor do you prefer, new blood?”

            The dark elf turned to the smith and then glanced down at her leather armor. “Something… heavy,” she said, and he nodded, turning to grab the tools he would need.

 

 

            Neri made it back down to the mead hall before the sun fell away completely. Vilkas was leaning against a pillar near the stairs when she stepped inside, and when his silver eyes met her crimson ones, her heart leapt. She hadn’t been able to speak with him all day, and as they approached each other, she saw that fact had upset him just as much.

            “I see you have new blades,” he shifted to lift the axe from her right hip. He had to bend to reach that low, and when he did his face was close to hers. Neri looked at it, and held her breath as he drew away. “This is a fine weapon, do they come together?” he asked, his eyes on the odd pommel.

            “Aye,” she nodded and lifted the other to offer it to him. He took it and placed them together, locking them easily, and slid the guard down. “You look like you know what you’re doing with those,” she smiled.

            “I have to, I’m the Master at Arms,” he chuckled and stepped back from her, spinning the blades so that they cut through the air easily. Her brows lifted in surprise and she shook her head.

            “Is there anything you can’t do?” Neri breathed and he stopped the axes, twisting them apart and then offered them to her. She took them while he smiled at her.

            “Let me train you with them, I think you’ll like them. Do they have names?”

            “Not yet,” she placed them on her hips and looked up at him. “Can we do some training now? I’m not tired…”

            “Of course,” he waved for her to lead the way, and she did, though he beat her to the door and held it open for her.

            The night air was cool, but not enough to give her gooseflesh. Vilkas started their training with her on the dummy, and iron axes. He corrected her form with soft words and softer touches. It didn’t take long for her to get distracted as he stepped behind her, his hand urging her arms into better angles and her back straight.

            “Strength in your core,” he breathed into her hair as he patted her stomach. Her eyes drifted shut. His body was hot behind her as he bent down over her. His hands didn’t linger, and it almost surprised her.

            Vilkas took a step away to allow her to engage the dummy. It left her cold, and she struck the burlap with one axe, then turned her body to allow the other blade to hit it as well.

            “Very good, I knew you’d learn quickly,” he complimented, and Neri turned to him.

            “You’ve been looking forward to this?”

            The smile that drifted up his lips was wolfish in the dim light of the fires illuminating the yard. “I’ve thought of it more than once.” Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at his boots, biting at her lower lip. The nord took a step closer to her. “Neriasa…”

            She looked up, her heart skipping, “Yes, Vilkas?”

            He paused, his silver eyes locked on her. “I wanted to apologies before, when you were telling me your nightmare…” he frowned and his jaw clenched. She remembered: he had been listening, but when she looked up at him he… she could see the gold in his eyes, and the way he got lost to the wolf within him. She knew he was just a moment away from eating her.

            “It’s because you’re a wolf,” she breathed and his lips parted, eyes widening.

            “How do you…?”

            “Farkas… turned,” she shifted, swallowing. “We were cornered, and the Silver-Hand…” she shook her head. She still couldn’t believe she had to kill her people.

            “So now you know,” he breathed and looked away from her. She watched him and frowned. His lips curled over his teeth and he ran his fingers through his hair. Then he stopped and looked back at her. “You knew and you still let me….” She nodded. She couldn’t believe it either. If Luthrak or Jamir found out she would be called a traitor. “Why?”

            Neri looked at him and then shrugged, “I… I don’t know.”

            Vilkas frowned, “I shouldn’t have done it.”

            Her brows arched upward, “No, don’t say that. I didn’t mean I didn’t like it….” Neri stepped closer to him and gripped the war axes in her hands tighter. “I… really liked it.”

            The nord’s gaze on her softened and he leaned down. She froze, her eyes on his lips as they came close to hers. But his hands slid over hers, and he took the weapons out of her grasp. When he lingered there, she allowed herself to look into his eyes. “I think we are done training for tonight,” he breathed and she gulped.

            “It _is_ getting late.”

            “Aye,” he straightened up and put the iron axes away. Neri watched him and nibbled on her lower lip.

            What was she doing? She was so confused. Every time she thought she was getting passed this, reminding herself that he was a wolf, the same merciless creature that killed her parents, she got lost in him again. She should be afraid of him, she should hate him. She should be willing to kill him.

            Vilkas came back to her side and they walked together back inside. He took her to her room again, and they lingered in the doorway. Her crimson gaze was down cast, and her teeth chewed on her lower lip.

            “It’s quite distracting when you do that,” Vilkas breathed, and Neri glanced up at him, startled. He smiled gently and leaned down, a hand coming up to hold her neck. His face waited in front of hers, pausing so that their eyes could meet, and he could see if he had her permission. Her teeth freed her lip, and he took that, closing the distance to brush against her. The hair stubble around his mouth scratched at her, but it made her smile, and she leaned into the kiss more. “Sweet dreams, Neriasa,” he whispered, his lips moving from hers to her cheek, then that spot below her ear. She liked when he kissed her there. She could feel his breath in her hair and down her neck. “Come to me if you have a nightmare,” he pleaded, and pressed a hard, tantalizing kiss into her soft skin. It took everything in her power not to throw her arms around him and keep him there.

            “I will,” she promised, her voice low in his ear. “Dream sweetly for me tonight, Vilkas.”

            There was a soft rumble in his chest and instead of being afraid of it, she felt it leave a knot in her stomach. “I shall,” he promised and gave her neck another kiss, before he straightened up and watched her enter the shared bedroom.

            On the way to her bed, she thought she saw Ria’s eyes snap shut. She paused to look at her fellow new blood, but the imperial seemed to be sleeping, so she settled into her bed with a sigh.


	8. Crimson Blood and Sparkling Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I sought family, and I found it with those whom I was to kill,” she shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to lie to you, Vilkas.”

**Vilkas**

            Ria leapt forward, her swing smacking Torvar again, and he grunted. “All right, I’m done for today,” he dropped his sword and Ria smiled, turning her gaze on Vilkas who was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched them. Ria was learning quickly, trying harder every day.

            “Good job,” he stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned her pale brown eyes up to him and smiled.

            “Thank you, Brother. Would you care to spare?” Her scent spiked suddenly, and he looked away from him. Neriasa was with Eorlund to get her armor fitted, he saw her head up there this morning after eating. He had woken up later than he normally did, but she had eaten with Farkas and his brother informed him that she was well and had slept ‘better last night than she had in ages’.

            “Aye,” Vilkas decided and grabbed his sword from over his shoulder and settled into position while Ria readied herself.

            She moved well, he gave her pointers, stepping with more natural movements than thinking about it as much as she was. Focus less on herself and more on him. She needed to allow her body to react while she calculated what he was going to do.

            The new blood couldn’t get a strike in on him, but she got close, and he offered her a simple praise for it. The moment he saw ashen skin out of the corner of his eye he straightened out of his stance with Ria and placed his blade on his back.

            “If you like, you can take a job,” he told her and she placed her sword on her hip.

            “We’re done training?”

            “Aye, I have to train the other new blood as well,” he gestured and Ria’s eyes flickered over to the approaching dark elf. She wore a set of wolf armor he now realized, and it set a shudder through him. It suited her, fitting her well, but he knew what the wolf armor meant, and so did Ria.

            “She’s joining the Circle?” the imperial turned on him, her brows together. “I… she’s only just…”

            Vilkas raised a hand at her, his brows tugging together and he approached Neriasa. The woman’s crimson eyes flicked up from where she was adjusting a belt. “Oh, Vilkas,” she grinned and he had to force himself not to get distracted from his current thought.

            “Why do you wear the Circle’s armor?”

            Her large eyes blinked, and she peered down at herself. “I didn’t pick it. Eorlund was told to make it by Kodlak,” she explained and Vilkas felt the hair on his neck prickle. “I just said I wanted heavy armor,” she frowned and then met his silver gaze.

            “Only the Circle wears the wolf armor, Neriasa,” he sighed and felt his jaw grow tight.

            “And a part of the Circle she will become,” Skjor’s voice came from behind Vilkas and he glanced up to see Aela and the nord coming toward them. “We’ve spoken to Kodlak and he agrees she is the next member.”

            “She’s only just joined,” Ria objected, and all three nords turned on her, their silver eyes locked on her. Vilkas knew this would happen. He’d heard Torvar speak with Athis about when they were on the Circle they would change things –Athis didn’t seem to care if he became a member, and Torvar would never, in Vilkas’s opinion, have what it took to. Ria and Njada were both on their way to a seat in the Circle. Now Neriasa who had been here less than a month threatened that.

            The imperial released a wave of fear, but held her ground. Aela frowned at her, the she-wolf never cared for the imperial, she was too ‘soft’ for her. Until Neriasa came along, she had been pushing for Njada to have a seat with them in the Circle –until recently when the nord started to listen a little too closely to rumors and got on Aela’s bad side. “It is true, but she shows us the will of a true Companion. When was the last time you took a job outside of the hold, whelp?”

            Ria’s face flushed and she looked down reeking of her embarrassment. “I’ve been training.”

            “The new blood trains on her jobs.”

            Vilkas almost felt bad for Ria. She was maybe… eighteen? Had she more spine she would make a great member of the Circle. But he agreed that Neriasa had the will they were looking for with enough skill to keep herself alive as well as her Shield-Sibling.

            “What if I don’t want to be on the Circle?”

            Now everyone looked at the dark elf, and she stared at them. He could faintly smell her sweet fear, but it wasn’t as thick as it normally was. “Are you refusing the position?” Skjor asked.

            “No, I’m simply asking. I need to think,” she frowned at them and then looked down at her armor. “I don’t want to take the seat if not everyone agrees I should have it.” Her doe’s eyes fell on Ria who was glaring at her, the red paint around her brown eyes making the stare heavier. Vilkas felt as swell of protection fill his chest.

            “Then show the whelp why we think you’re suited for the seat, new blood,” Skjor waved toward the imperial and both women looked at him, surprised. Aela smirked and crossed her arms.

            “Aye.”

            Neriasa glanced at Vilkas who was frowning, but he nodded once and that seemed to be all she needed to lift her axes from her hips. Ria grabbed her sword and slid into her stance. Every part of Vilkas wanted to point out to them what they needed to do, but his eyes lingered on Neriasa.

            She was in unfamiliar armor, and it was heavier than anything she’d probably worn before. He could see her try to adjust to the new weight. It wasn’t fair to pin her against Ria like this and expect her to win. Skjor and Aela watched closely, though, and he knew if he started to speak, to favor one over the other, he’d never hear the end of it, so he kept quiet.

            Neriasa allowed Ria to strike first, a wise move since she was uncomfortable. The imperial rushed forward and swung her sword, only to have it knocked away by the dark elf. One axe spun around to divert the blade while its twin came down to strike the imperial’s shoulder plate. Ria grunted and pushed Neriasa.

            The dark elf was smaller, slower because of her armor, and all around had so many disadvantages on the imperial it should have been easy for Ria to get the upper hand. And she nearly did. Nearly.

            Ria kicked the dark elf in the stomach to push her back, and then swiped her sword to get a good hit on the new steel armor. But the Skyfordged steel axe came up, caught the blade in the hook, and guided it away. Neriasa spun and twisted around the imperial to hit the flat of the axe hard against the soft back of Ria’s scale armor. Her breath left her and then the dark elf turned her axe around backward and used the blunt back to smack the imperial’s heel, causing her to yelp and stumble.

            Aela made a howl of pleasure when Neriasa pushed Ria over and she fell to the ground in a defeated huff. Skjor grinned, and Vilkas felt his shoulders relax. He had been holding his breath, but now let it fall out of him. The dark elf offered a hand to assist the imperial back to her feet, and Ria took it, nodded to her victor, and then turned to nurse her wounds inside.

            “I knew you had what it takes, Sister,” Aela grabbed Neriasa by the shoulder and pulled her in close to her side, laughing with a wide smile. “You’ll make for a great member of the Circle.”

            “Thank you,” she panted and then looked at Vilkas. “If you would be so kind, I must take a break. I’m not used to this heavy of armor.”

            Aela nodded and turned the elf around to walk with her into the mead hall leaving Vilkas with Skjor.

            “She did well,” the older nord breathed and Vilkas nodded.

            “Aye, she learns quickly. Every word spoken to her she heeds,” he replied and met the other man’s silver gaze.

            “She will make for a great wolf, don’t you think? Small, but quick and fierce.”

            Vilkas felt his jaw tighten and but he nodded. “Aye, I would not force the blood on her. Allow her to decide.”

            “We don’t force anyone,” Skjor sighed and placed his hand on the twin’s shoulder. “Perhaps she will help you with your struggle, Brother.”

            “How will she assist me?” Vilkas glared. “She will only make it harder on me.”

            “So you admit you’re drawn to her?”

            “I am,” he relented. Skjor simply nodded. “I do not want the others to think I favor her over them.”

            “There’s nothing you can do about that. Wait to make your feels public until she has become a full member of the Circle,” the older nord advised. “Perhaps she will share a room with you when she is promoted,” he chuckled, shaking the younger nord with the hold he hand on his armor. “Save us the trouble of fixing up one of the store rooms into fresh quarters for her.”

            Vilkas grunted, but he had to admit he didn’t mind the idea of Neriasa coming to live in his room with him. His bed was large enough for two, and she didn’t have many things…. He glanced sideways at the other nord and nodded once. “That will be up to her, of course. She does not seem the kind of woman to mistress a man –nor do I wish that of her– and I doubt she is interested in marrying me.”

            “Now why would you say that?” Skjor frowned at him and removed his hand, starting for the tables of food sitting out. A servant was cleaning up some empty dishes, Vilkas didn’t pay them any mind as he followed the other man.

            “She is high born, comes from wealth. I’m sure she is only here for a short while,” he sighed and Skjor grunted a laugh.

            “Don’t make up excuses. If she is high born she’s left that life for this one. She has given us no reason to assume she’d leave,” he turned toward Vilkas. “Or has she said something to you?”

            “No, these are my own thoughts,” he sighed and Skjor nodded.

            “You’re worrying yourself, Brother, just relax, drink a little, eat something.”

            “Aye,” Vilkas sighed and sat down beside the man to eat.

            When he departed from Skjor, Aela took the older nord for a quick hunt as their supply of meat was waning. Vilkas decided to find the dark elf.

            Neriasa was folding a letter when Vilkas peered into the shared sleeping quarters. She didn’t notice him, and he watched her for a moment as her red eyes lingered on the parchment. He wondered who it was for, and why she looked sad.

            The nord cleared his throat and stepped into the room. She glanced up and offered him a smile, pushing the letter into her armor. “Vilkas,” she stood up.

            “You did well against Ria, but you will need trained in that armor,” he commented, trying to avoid his curiosity on her letter.

            “Aye, that was a close one, I’m sure she would have had me if I hadn’t been so well rested,” she smiled and he grinned at that.

            “Come, I’ll show you what I know.”

            As always, Neriasa impressed. It would take some time for her to grow strong enough to wear her heavy armor like she wore the leather, but she had the techniques down in only a few days. He spent an equal amount of time with her as he did with the others, but he enjoyed their training more.

            The dark elf was stealing his heart away, and with every story that he boasted and tale that she told, he was farther and farther gone. When he could, Vilkas would slip sweet kisses into that spot below her ear she loved so much. He did his best to hide the actions, heeding Skjor’s words. Neriasa took to rewarding his kisses with her own pressed into his cheek and neck when he bent close enough to her.

            It was decided she would join the Circle on the next full moon, less than a week away. Neriasa showed her excitement, but also her nerves. He could tell it made her wary, and he knew it had to do with taking the beast blood.

            Farkas and Neriasa went on a quick job in the Rift, only a day out. He spent the hour before she left with her, and gave her secrete kisses before watching her leave with his brother.

            Aela was lying on Vilkas’s bed when he returned to his quarters. He frowned at her and narrowed his eyes as she smirked at him. She hung her head over the side so that she looked at him upside down, and her red hair fell to the ground. The green streaks across her face brought out the silver of her eyes, and distorted the curve of her lips. He had always thought her pretty, but she was more of a sister to him as they had both grown up here.

            “What is it?” he grunted and removed his gauntlets, putting his back to her.

            “I cannot just visit you, Brother?”

            “Visiting my bed leaves me suspicious, Aela,” he sighed and dropped the steel on his table. “You never ‘just visit’, anyhow. You always have a reason for what you do.”

            “You know me well,” she breathed and stood from his bed, coming to aid him in removing his chest plate. “It’s about the new blood.”

            “Aye, what about her?”

            “She is hiding something,” she said, her voice low enough he barely caught it with his sensitive hearing.

            He felt his jaw tighten and he looked over his shoulder at her. “What has given you this impression?”

            “Think about it. She is so fearful of us, the wolves, she knows about us, yes, but I think she knew before Farkas showed her. I think she’s known since she came here,” the huntress finished with the straps of his armor and pulled it over his head. He glared at her.

            “Why are you just now bringing it up?”

            “I just now started to think about it. She is good with those blades, she learns very fast, almost as if she was pretending,” Aela frowned. “I thought her fear was just as any new blood’s. I over looked it. Now I think back. She only smelled of it around the Circle. She is the ideal Companion, doing _everything_ we require and more.”

            “So you think she is hiding something?”

            “I know she is. Farkas said she sent a letter before they went on her Trial. And then they were attacked by Silver-Hand at Dustman’s Cairn?” her dark brows tugged together. “She has sent several others…. I don’t want it to be true. I like the elf, Vilkas. But I love our family, and I don’t want this new blood to threaten it. If she is not who we think she is…” her voice trailed off and he knew the implied words.

            “We kill her.”

            Aela nodded and rested her hands on his shoulders. “She is coming up on her time to take the blood…. Take some time with her, see if you can get anything solid. I hope that I am wrong about her, Brother.” She frowned and he glared at her. “I want you happy with her…”

            He watched her leave and closed his doors to finish removing his armor alone.

 

 

            Vilkas waited for Neriasa to finish speaking with Kodlak after she returned with Farkas. She and his brother had been gone for two days. Now she and the old man spoke about the beast blood and what it will do to her. The Harbinger comforted her by telling her she can refuse at any time, but once she takes the blood there is no going back. She may suffer differently than the others, feeling little like Farkas, or loving it like Aela, or barely able to contain it like Vilkas.

            He stood outside his room with only his pants hanging on his hips. He needed to speak with her and his inner wolf was heating him up to the point of nearly sweating. There was no way she could be lying to them. He would have noticed _something_ wrong.

            If not him, the wolf….

            Was that why she was so sweet to him? The wolf could smell the lies?

            He felt his gums burn and shift at the thought of her sweet fear. When he was bent over her, listening to her heart beat slowly in her chest. His tongue traced his lips. Then he growled to himself and forced his eyes open. Now wasn’t the time to be getting himself worked up, he had to talk to her, take everything about her in.

            Kodlak’s doors opened and she whispered her thanks and departure from the Harbinger.

            “Neriasa,” he called and she looked up, pausing as she nearly passed him, not seeing him in the shadow of the hall outside his door.

            “Vilkas,” her lips quirked up and she came to him, her large eyes running over his shirtless form before meeting his silver gaze. When she saw he was not smiling, hers faded. “Is there something wrong?”

            The scent of her pleasure drifted into a weak mix of worry and fear. Paranoia. He closed his eyes and gestured for her to go into his room, “I have need to speak with you in private.”

            She nodded and cleared her throat before stepping into his quarters. Vilkas closed the doors behind him and stood in front of them, his back to her. He could feel her eyes run over him, and smell the conflict of her feelings.

            “What is it, Brother?”

            He turned to her then and sighed. “Tell me, when did you learn that I am a wolf?”

            Her crimson eyes widened and she took on a blush under her ashen cheeks. “I… I knew for sure when we returned from the Markarth job.” Her scent told him she was being honest.

            She had heard him speak to Farkas about his wish to feed on her. No wonder she was so afraid of him when he opened the door. “You had suspicions before then?”

            She swallowed and stared up at him, her fear growing. “Aye.”

            “How?”

            “You… look like a wolf,” she whispered. “How you… act.”

            He frowned at that, “And none of the others do?”

            “Not like you,” she confessed and he glared passed her, at the ground. It hurt to know he was the weakest of them. He had known before it was hardest on him to contain his wolf, but he hadn’t realized how obvious it was to see what he really is.

            He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “Is that why you are so afraid of me?”

            There was a long pause from her, and he looked up to see her eyes were wet. “A wolf killed my parents…. I… I watched one feast on my mother….”

            Of course, her nightmare… she told him it was of the night her parents died, and then he had sat there and nearly turned into the very thing she feared most. “Neriasa, you know I would not harm you, yes?” he whispered, coming closer to her.

            Her scent shifted and she stared up into his eyes, her crimson auroras sparkling with tears that threatened to fall down her face. “You trust me so?”

            “Aye, with my life,” he took hold of her upper arms, pulling her closer and she looked down at his chest.

            “Aela asked me why I came to the Companions. I told her because I had to,” she whispered, her voice soft. He kept his silver eyes locked on her face. “It was the truth. I was ordered to come here.” His brows drew together and she bent down to reach for something in her boot. He didn’t have the chance to admire her actually kneeling before him because the wolf stirred the moment the small silver blade caught the candlelight. “I joined the Silver-Hand to avenge my parents and find the wolf that killed them. But… I was sent here, and I was told to gain your trust and…” she didn’t look at his face, her eyes were on the silver blade in her hand. She lifted it slowly, just like how he moved when he kissed her. She placed the point above his heart, and they both looked at it, neither moving, neither breathing.

            She had had this blade all this time, and known since the beginning what he was, and never once had he even caught the scent of it. The wolf within him growled, but he ignored it, his silver eyes locked on where his skin was dipping under the light pressure of the blade. Already he could feel its burn, the beast within him weak to the metal used against his kind. He could kill her before she stuck it deep enough to kill him. But only if he saw her move to do so.

            Her scent tainted every breath he took, lightening his head until he thought he might pass out. Even now, knowing she had lied to them, he couldn’t move against her. She came with orders to betray to Companions, yet she was telling him the truth now. If it was a trick, it was a smart one.

            But then Neriasa looked up into his face, a tear fell onto her cheek and his eyes followed it as it drew a line down over her scars and disappeared under her jaw to her neck. Those scars were from the wolf she was hunting. He could understand that kind of hate, that kind of resentment. But somehow she had come to allow him to hold and kiss her. He could smell her pleasure when he did so, you couldn’t fake that. She had honestly enjoyed him doing those things to her.

            “I told them of Wuuthrad. I wish I hadn’t. When Farkas and I got to Dustman’s Cairn they attacked us both. I killed just as many as him…” another tear fell down her cheek. “They would have killed me. I thought they were… I trusted them… but I was just…” she looked at his chest, her free hand came up and pressed against him. Her grip on the blade tightened as she pressed it a little harder into him. His lips drew back, but he held still. Her fingers ran through the course hair of his chest and drew her eye.

            He could smell her confusion. She needed to kill him, but she didn’t want to. He could understand that, he felt the same way. She had lied to them, and fed the Silver-Hand information… but he loved her.

            A drop of his blood welled up around the point of her dagger and then drew a line down his peck. They both watched it fall down, tracing his muscle until it reached his belt line. Her aurora eyes returned to the fingers running through his chest hair. Then she looked up at him and dropped the blade, her hands falling to her sides.

            “I sought family, and I found it with those whom I was to kill,” she shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to lie to you, Vilkas.”

            He lifted his hand and placed it on her neck, his thumb pressing against her chin to make her look up at him, then it wiped away the trail her tears made. “Then don’t lie to me,” he whispered. Her red brows arched up in surprise. “Prove to me I can trust you as a Sister in Honor. Help us take the fight to the Silver-Hand.”

            She nodded and the fear in the air faded. Her eyes drifted shut as she relaxed under his touch and she sighed. “I hold no loyalty to them.”

            Vilkas let his other hand slide around her and he pulled her to his bare chest. She kicked the silver dagger away and it hit his door. He looked down at her red head resting against him. After wetting her thumb, she wiped at the prick she’d given him and then followed the trail down this stomach. He liked feeling her touch him; her fingers cool against his burning flesh. “Neriasa…”

            “Vilkas...”

            She tilted her face up and he bent down, holding her cheek with a gentle hand as he hovered in front of her lips. She closed her aurora eyes and pushed onto her toes to close the distance herself and he smiled, slipping his hand into her hair.

            The kiss turned quickly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her. His hands slid down to her hips and then lower so that he could grab her and lifted her, easing the strain on his back. Her legs kicked around his waist and he held her up by her thighs while she supported herself with nails digging into his shoulders. A growl rumbled in his chest and her pleasure spiked.

            He tore his lips from hers and trailed kisses over her cheek to that sweet spot on her neck just below her ear. She groaned as he let his teeth graze the soft flesh there, his tongue tasting the sweetness his wolf craved. “When you join the Circle you’ll need a place to stay,” he breathed into her hair, taking in the faint smell of lavender. “We can convert one of the store rooms into quarters for you…”

            “Or…?” she moaned as he pulled her tighter to him, his mouth on her throat now.

            “Or,” he growled and met her hooded eyes, “You stay with me. Make what is mine, yours.”

            He heard her heart skip, and he looked at the vein in her neck. She smelled so good, sweet and like her pleasure. There was more than just that, though, she had finished her blood some days ago. Now she came up on the time when she could conceive children. If he thought her fear was sweet…

            “You would have me live with you?” she breathed and his attention returned to her aurora eyes. “Are you interested in…” Neriasa’s gaze flicked down, “In marriage?”

            “I am,” he confessed, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’d be glad to stand at your side until the divines take us, i–if you’ll have me?” He closed his eyes, hoping not to have just made a complete fool of himself.

            “I will,” she breathed and he looked at her. “Together, then.”

            “Together,” he growled and kissed her again. She tangled her fingers in his hair as his hands slid to hold her by her rear and at the back of her neck.

            Vilkas would find a way to protect her from the others, they would not take her confession like he did. With that thought, he wondered if it had been foolish of him to allow himself to love this woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh... :D


	9. Silver Overtaking Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He dropped forward onto all fours and came closer, his head low, showing he meant no harm as he grew nearer. She held still and he closed the distance. His nose brushed her cheek and then he licked at the blood matting her fur. Cleaning her face, he drew close and she got a better grasp on the scent he was giving off. It was a need, and she was feeling it too.

**Neri**

            Neriasa shot forward with a gasp and grabbed her chest. She looked around and confirmed that it was only a dream –a nightmare. Normally only one plagued her –the one where her parents died– but this one had been different. And it made it all the more terrifying.

            Neri stood up quietly and left the shared sleeping quarters to pad barefoot down the quiet halls of Jorrvaskr’s basement. She came to stand outside of Vilkas’s room and took a deep breath. He told her to come to him if she had any more nightmares, and this one was a pretty bad one. She was still shaking.

            And Vilkas was her fiancé now… she shouldn’t be afraid to go to him in the middle of the night with her troubles. The dark elf steadied herself and pushed his door open.

            It was dark, and she couldn’t see a thing, but she’d been in here enough to know the basic lay out. She closed the door and then turned in the direction of his bed, feeling the cool stone floor with her feet carefully before stepping forward. Her pinky toe caught the bed frame’s foot before her knee met the soft fur of the nord’s blanket.

            “Vilkas?” she whispered and knelt beside the bed, her knees able to feel the cold rock despite the fabric between them.

            There was a soft groan and then shifting in the bed. “Neriasa?” he sighed and she could just see his silhouette as he propped himself up to look at her. There was a faint glow in his eyes, she could just see the reflection of the nearly nonexistent lighting. “What is it, love?”

            Her heart leapt and she felt the tears roll onto her cheeks. He reached for her as she climbed into the bed beside him. “My dream,” she breathed into his throat, curling up on his lap with the fur blanket beneath her. “It was… horrible, I saw the Silver-Hand come here… they killed you and the others…”

            “They would never dare come here, Neriasa,” he growled into her hair and tightened his arms around her. She felt small here, with his thick bicep behind her head, his upper arm as long as the span of her shoulders. His other hand held her waist, pulling her into his chest, which felt warm now, her flesh having gone cold in fright. “The whole of Whiterun would defend the Companions –not that we need it,” he tried to laugh, but she could hear it was forced. He had to smell her fear.

            “I told them so much. I was so… scared and angry. I never wanted to come here, and then I began to like it,” she pressed her face into his neck, keeping her eyes closed tight. “I’m so sorry, Vilkas, I’m so sorry!” The sob tore out of her and made her body shake.

            “Hush,” he whispered and moved his hand from her waist to her face. “Neriasa, keep your voice down. Please, love,” he rubbed his face against her hair and she circled her arms around him. She didn’t deserve him, how could he trust her so after what she’d done? She betrayed the Companions and he still wanted her.

            “Will the others hate me?”

            “It will take some time for them to trust you if they learn what you’ve done,” he sighed and shifted her in his arms. “I don’t know if we should tell them,” he said honestly. “Aela suspects something, already, she will be the hardest to regain lost trust with. Farkas will hold no grudge. Skjor is far more understanding than he lets on. And the old man…” Vilkas shook his head. “I cannot say, he’s known since his first look at you that you have the heart of a Companion, and here you are, proving it, with your desire to remain with us, despite your past.”

            She nodded and allowed her hands to slide back to his front, running her fingers along the crease between muscles. “I should tell them.”

            Vilkas sighed but nodded. “I will be with you. We should do it when you take the beast blood.” She nodded and relaxed in his hold. His thick fingers ran through her hair and brushed it away from her face. She could feel his eyes on her and knew he could see her in the darkness.

            Faintly she wondered what it would be like to have the sort of power he had. The strength of the wolf, the senses….

            Her nord pressed his lips into her forehead and then lowered them to the mattress. Her heart picked up, but he didn’t try anything, he simply held her as he got comfortable and pulled the furs up over her.

            “Relax, Neriasa,” he breathed into her hair and she nodded, her fingers drawing lines along his bare chest until she fell asleep there in his arms.

           

 

            Kodlak looked tired as Neri sat down beside him. He pursed his lips and frowned, looking at the food on his plate rather than at her. She swallowed and waited for his reaction. Vilkas waited on the other side of the door to the sitting room they were in. Both of them knew that Kodlak wouldn’t harm her, no matter what she’d done.

            “I’m so sorry,” she breathed and he shook his head.

            “Stop apologizing, girl,” he sighed. “You did what you thought was right.”

            “I was stupid–”

            “No,” he shook his head, “You were confused.”

            Neriasa nodded, comforted that he seemed to understand. “Aye, Harbinger.”

            Kodlak closed his silver eyes and rested his face in his hand, supporting his elbow on the table. “The others will not be so forgiving.” She simply nodded and he rubbed his beard. “Perhaps we should not tell them.”

            Her brows quirked and her lips parted, “Are you sure?”

            “So long as you sever your ties with them, I see no point on dwelling in the past. No Companion is innocent,” he decided and then offered her a smile. “You are one of us, girl. We take care of our own.”

            Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. How were they so understanding? Why wasn’t she thrown out on her ass? If the roles would have been reversed –a Companion gone to the Silver-Hand– they would have been killed the moment the truth was known. Just like Jamir told her would happen here. He told her they would kill her without hesitating, but here she was, sitting beside the Harbinger as he smiled and took her hand to comfort her fears away.

            “I cannot express how thankful I am to have come here.”

            He nodded and squeezed her hand. “Go with Vilkas, tonight you join the Circle. That is still what you want, yes?”

            Neri met his silver eyes. “Yes. I don’t fear the Companion wolves,” she explained. “Only one, a blonde wolf… it killed my parents,” she whispered and he nodded his understanding. “It had with it a pack of… at least eight wolves…. I barely got away with my life,” she whispered and touched the scars on her face.

            “Aye, not all can contain their inner beast. They travel together, and terrorize good folk,” he frowned and Neri shook her head.

            “I’ve… been thinking about it,” she whispered and looked down. “I think I know who the wolf was. I have replayed the dream over and over, and… after coming here to see you,” she gestured around. “I think the blonde wolf was Thorbjorn, my fiancé. He,” she swallowed, “Had the silver eyes, and the blonde hair…”

            He nodded and looked down, “That is quite damning.”

            “I joined the Silver-Hand to find the wolf, but so far I find my time with the Companions more helpful,” she sighed and rubbed her face. “I thought Thorbjorn was killed with his family when I found their cart attacked, looking just the same as my family’s home. Now I think he faked his death…”

            “Have you seen the blonde wolf since?”

            “No,” she wrung her hands together.

            He nodded and sighed. “No need to worry yourself about it then, at least for now. We have more pressing matters to deal with.”

            “Aye,” she agreed and stood up. “Will you be attending the ceremony?”

            “I think it best if I wait here,” he stood and gave her a smile. “Come see me when you’re able.”

            “Yes, Harbinger,” she bowed her head before joining Vilkas in the hallway.

            When she stepped up to the nord’s side he glanced down at her with soft silver eyes. She turned to him and took a moment to look over his face. He needed a shave, the thick black hair around his mouth was almost longer than when they’d returned from Markarth and he’d gone a week without cleaning it. The strands on his head were falling to his shoulders now, and came down into his face more often.

            Vilkas placed a hand at the small of her back and urged her forward, down the hall. Neriasa walked close to his side and looked at the rugs, her mind racing.

 

 

            Skjor waited near the stairs leading up to the Skyforge. He smiled when he caught sight of Neri and Vilkas coming his way.

            “Farkas?”

            “Inside with Aela,” he answered his fellow nord and turned to the dark elf. “Your time has come, new blood.”

            She smiled at him and glanced up into the sky to see the bright moons over head. Secunda and Masser hung brightly behind the auroras, a great distance between them, but they were both fully lit up. She turned her eyes back to the men with her, they too had checked the sky, but their eyes lingered, and she wondered how strong the pull would be to her. Skjor returned his attention to her before Vilkas tore his eyes from the heavens.

            “Come,” the older nord breathed and started for the cliff face. Neri’s brows tugged together until he stepped up to the stone and passed through it. The dark elf blinked and Vilkas urged her forward.

            Neri stepped up and touched the rock, it felt solid under her fingertips, but then Vilkas moved her hand to the side and it fell passed the image of the stone. “What magic is this?” she breathed and her nord chuckled before pressing his hold on her to get her to step into the rock face.

            Inside was a dark cave with a shrine to the left and a basin in the center of the space. Farkas stood on the opposite side of the empty stone bowl, and next to him was a massive wolf. It had thick auburn fur with a bright red tint in the torchlight. The wolf lifted its massive head from where it had tilted to sniff at Skjor. The older nord stepped right up to it and stood close, allowing it to press its face into his arm and growl.

            “That’s Aela,” Vilkas breathed, his voice low in her ear. She nodded and took a deep breath. “Relax, love, we can all smell your fear.”

            She glanced up at him and noticed how his eyelids hung heavy as his iris flashed gold and his lips drew back over his teeth some, but his jaw was clamped shut, tight. Neri turned her eyes back up to look at the others. Farkas offered a lopsided grin and Skjor gestured for her to approach.

            “Aela wanted to be the one to offer her blood,” he explained when she stood beside the basin. Her hands gripped it for support and she nodded her understanding. “Are you ready to join your spirit with the beast world, friend?”

            Neriasa took a deep breath, meeting his silver gaze and nodded once, “I’m ready.”

            “Very well,” he pulled a Skyforged steel dagger from his belt and grabbed Aela’s massive paw. The wolf bared her teeth, but allowed the nord to hold her limb over the basin and then press the dagger into her wrist. The edge sliced right through the flesh and Neri shuddered at the growl that rumbled out of the she-wolf.

            The blood poured out of her into the basin and Skjor seemed to struggle some against the wolf’s faint attempt to pull away. The stream began to slow and Neriasa looked down at the pool of crimson, it was thick and the smell touched her nose, daring her to gag.

            The blood stopped and Neri saw the wound was healed, closed, leaving a faint line in her fur. Then she turned her eyes down to look at the basin and took a deep breath. Vilkas had told her she had to consume the blood, it was the safest way to be turned –being bitten would also work, but sometimes the wolf wouldn’t stop at just a taste.

            The dark elf took one final glance around, meeting Farkas’s eyes, then the wolf’s, Skjor’s, and finally Vilkas to her left, closest to her. He inclined his head, his face unreadable. Neriasa took another breath in through her mouth and then turned back to the blood, reaching an ashen hand down into the pool.

            It was soft, thick, and stained her flesh as she lifted her cupped fingers, watching the blood drip down lazily in the gaps between her digits and over the sides. She swallowed and then pressed her hand to her lips, opening her mouth to pour the beast blood onto her tongue.

            Immediately she could feel the effects, but she reached down and repeated the process. When she swallowed she wanted to gag, but with each gulp it was easier, and a burning fire spread from her stomach to her limps, into her chest and then her face.

            Neriasa could feel her gums burn and her bones begin to ache, like when she was a child going through growth spurts. It hurt, but the blood made it feel better, so she took in more and more until she was licking her fingers and scraping the bottom of the basin to get more. Her teeth shifted and she grabbed the stone, suddenly needing the support. Her back arched and she bent forward, a hiss escaping her chest and sliding out of clamped teeth.

            There was movement around her, but she couldn’t see passed the haze in her gaze. Her legs bent under her and she went to her knees. Trying to keep herself up, she slammed her hands down and watched through the blur as her wolf armor gave way to thick fur. Her limbs extended, her joints shifted, her back hunched, and she threw her head back as her face caught fire, burning as the bones moved and stretched into a snout.

            Neriasa gave in to the wolf, and the pain faded into a bliss of fire.

 

 

            _The wolf can smell everything… all of the people in Whiterun, the animals outside the walls… the food in the market, and the wild flowers decorating the city’s grass. She could count the souls as if they stood in front of her._

_Other smells held her attention now, though, familiar ones. She turned back to see the red she-wolf come a step forward, hunching forward, watching her with golden eyes. Beside her were three nords, they looked the same to the wolf, but their scents told her they were not mere men. They were like her, and they were of the same pack._

_The wolf turned away from them and looked on toward the city, where the fresh blood called to her. She started forward and a growl rumbled behind her, in warning. She ignored it and took several more steps toward the city._

_A rumbling snarl rolled behind her and she turned to see one of the nord men fall onto his hands and changed. His shift was swift, easy and long over due, she could see it in how he relaxed immediately. Then he lifted his face to her, remaining on his hands and feet, coming toward her with his head low and his ears back. None threatening._

_But he wanted to stop he from going toward the city. She needed to though, she needed to find a warm body._

_She needed to feed._

_The male leapt forward as she turned and took her to the ground. She growled and thrashed her legs, kicking at him, and barely noticed the other two nords coming forward to block her path to the city._

_She pushed away from the male and looked around, seeing the city wall, she ran for it and jumped up, catching the stone and vaulting over it._

_When she hit the ground she ran, sprinting into the wilds. She could hear behind her the she-wolf and male following. She stopped when she caught the scent of a farmer and his livestock, distracted from her attempt to get some distance between her and the other wolves. The need to feed was too great._

_She veered off and dropped to all fours so she could creep through the tall grass toward the cattle. The steer lifted his head and met her golden gaze before she leapt and tackled it to the ground. Her fangs sunk into its flesh, ripping through the fur and breaking bone with a snap. Her massive paws pressed the animal down, keeping it from kicking her or swinging its head._

_The wolf tore open its belly and buried her face in it, looking for one thing in the delicious mess of bleeding organs. The thing that called out to her. The thing that raced as she got closer to it. The heart._

_She found it and took it in her teeth, pulling her face from the body. When she straightened up she tilted her head back and closed her mouth around the most beautiful of muscles. The wash of crimson that fell down her throat and seeped out of the corners of her mouth extended her bloodlust._

_A scent caught her nose and she looked back to see the male standing in the grass nearby. He was watching her, golden eyes catching the light as the farmer screamed at her, trying to run her off until he got close enough to really see what she was. She turned to him now and sniffed the air. His heart was even sweeter than the steer’s._

_The male leapt forward and stepped between her and the farmer, standing back on his hind legs. He was larger than her, nearly twice so, with fur almost as black as the sky beyond the stars. She watched him open his arms and beg her not to try to pass him. She bared her teeth at him, wanting to feed on the farmer, but his ears fell back and he showed his own teeth at her. His were clean, nearly white, while hers dripped, blood coating her from nose to ear._

_The male stepped forward and she turned and ran again._

_This time it was only the male behind her. He followed close, drawing nearer with each stride. When she reached the trees he was beside her and she stopped, turning on him, showing teeth and he copied, standing tall, his tail straight, showing he wasn’t going to back down._

_She bent down onto her hands and lower her face, taking a whiff of the shifting scents in the air. The male was giving off something she’d never smelled before. It made her stomach tighten and her legs quiver._

_He dropped forward onto all fours and came closer, his head low, showing he meant no harm as he grew nearer. She held still and he closed the distance. His nose brushed her cheek and then he licked at the blood matting her fur. Cleaning her face, he drew close and she got a better grasp on the scent he was giving off. It was a need, and she was feeling it too._

_He had nearly cleaned all of the cattle’s blood when she saw his excitement. She tilted her head and bowed down to sniff it and lick him. He growled, but adjusted his legs wider. Her rear stuck in the air, her tail wagging back and forth as she inched closer to him. His nose found the heat between her legs and he pulled away from her face to round her._

_She glanced back as he lapped at her. She could feel him part her lips with his tongue and taste her pleasure. Then he climbed up onto her, his hand like paws coming to hold her sides, pulling her into him. She felt him prod her before pushing in, filling her quickly as she’d never taken anything in there._

_She threw her head back and howled. He joined, then wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his chest. She growled and dug her nails into the ground. He started to move his hips, withdrawing before pushing right back in, all the way to his base._

_The feeling was like nothing she had before, and his scent filled her nose, making her head grow light. He smelled like a fire, the sweet smell of a campfire, with the comforting heat of a flame. She loved fire; it was always her favorite element._

_The male quickened his pace and she panted, growling her pleasure through bared teeth while squeezing her eyes shut. He panted in her ear, a hand on her stomach, holding her while the other pressed against the dirt beside her to support himself while he used both of his back legs to give him his hard, strong thrusts._

_She threw her head back and the male clamped his teeth on her neck below her ear, snarling as he came to his end, filling her with his hot gift. She pressed into him, rubbing her rear against him and he rewarded her by nuzzling up against the side of her face._

_When he pulled out she whimpered and turned to look at him, licking at his sweaty face. He panted and sat back on his haunches._

_A howl sounded in the distance and they both perked up, tilting their heads at the call. She was off before him running as fast as she could through the woods…._

 

 

            Neriasa groaned and shuddered as a cold chill ran down her spine. She looked around and met silver eyes. Her head pounded and blurred her vision for a moment before she could blink and rub at her face with a weak hand. Her arms felt like lead and her bones ached. “What…?”

            “Take it slow, Sister,” Aela breathed and knelt down beside her. “Yours was not an easy transformation. But you’re still alive, so congratulations.”

            Neri grunted and peered up at her. Aela smelled faintly of blood but also like tundra cotton and plain rivers. It was a pleasant smell. “I… don’t remember what happened…”

            “That’s natural the first few times. When you get better control over the wolf then you will be able to control your time in beast form.”

            “Did I… kill anyone?” Neriasa winced.

            “Only a cow. Vilkas stopped you from harming the farmer. I’m surprised he was able to help himself, normally he’s no better than a new wolf. I blame it on his beast, he drew from Kodlak, just as his brother did, but he came first, and I think he was given an Alpha.” Aela helped Neriasa to stand as she explained and the dark elf looked down to see she had her wolf armor on, but her axes were crossed on Aela’s back.

            “Alpha?”

            “Aye, each pack has an Alpha, a wolf that’s bigger, stronger, has more of a connection between the man and beast within. Kodlak was our Alpha, but in his old age he takes his beast form less and less, and his wolf grows submissive. If Vilkas is truly the Alpha I think he is then he is suffering so bad because his wolf is trying to take charge. He’s made it worse by not allowing himself to turn and feed. Last night was the first time he’s changed in…” she narrowed her silver eyes in thought. “Months.”

            Neri’s brows frowned, “He turned to keep me from killing someone?”

            “Aye, I could have stopped you, but he changed before we could stop him.” She smiled then, reaching up to take the axes from her back. “His wolf claimed yours last night, I can smell it on you.”

            “What?” the dark elf’s eyes snapped wide.

            “Aye, perhaps that’s why it was so hard for him to resist. He loves you, and so does his beast. When you joined us in the blood the wolf had to do what the man did.” She smirked and shrugged, “Skjor and I have claimed each other as well. It is a nice bond to have, strengths your relationship in both forms.”

            Neri’s heart pounded and she looked down at herself. She didn’t think she smelled any different. Her nose may just be ignoring her scent. “How do you… claim?”

            “By mating, Sister.”

            Those words stopped her heart and she stared at the ground. She wished she remembered what happened. She and Vilkas hadn’t… and now they had… but she’d never….

            “Don’t worry, Sister, even as a wolf he would not have unless you allowed him,” the nord comforted.

            “Oh, no, I wasn’t worried that he would–” she stopped herself from saying the word. She didn’t think Vilkas would take her against her will. “You said you claimed Skjor as well?”

            “Aye, I confirmed he is my mate,” she nodded and glanced down at the axes she held, noting the odd pommels.

            “How?”

            Aela glanced up and smirked, “Males claim by mating and leaving marks on their females. Females have their choice of males, and all they have to do to confirm their choice is mark them back.”

            “Vilkas marked me?”

            “Aye,” Aela stepped forward and lightly brushed her neck. It stung and Neri knew there was a bruise there below her ear in the spot she loved him to kiss. Her brows arched upward as she looked at the nord woman. “It’s a nice mark, reminds me of the one Skjor gave me…” she sighed in remembrance and then shook her head. “Anyway. We have a celebration planned for you, Sister. There is a pack of werewolf hunters camped nearby, at Gallows Rock.”

            Neri stiffened. She knew Gallows Rock. It was a Silver-Hand outpost.

            “The Silver-Hand, I think you and Farkas met them in Dustman’s Cairn, yes?” Neri nodded and the nord smirked. “We’re going to slaughter them, all of them. Skjor’s already scouting them out –I heard the screams before you shifted back.”

            The dark elf took a deep breath and took her axes back from the nord.


	10. Crimson Lines Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was dark before Neriasa returned alone. It didn’t take but one look at her for Vilkas to know something very wrong happened. He went to her, standing from the meal he was sharing with Kodlak and Farkas, ignoring the eyes from the others down the table. She was soaked from the drenching rain that poured down outside, and reeked of blood and silver. He could barely smell the lavender of her hair when he took her in his arms and pulled her to his chest.

**Vilkas**

            He hit his bed and buried his face in his pillow to try to hide the stupid smile that stretched across his face. Vilkas knew he should feel bad; he had done so well, not giving in to his beast, but last night…

            Neriasa was perfect. Her wolf was lean and small, like her, but had beautiful bloody red fur with a silver undercoat. Her golden eyes were deeper than even Aela’s, and brighter. He wished he could have stayed to see her turn back, but he was needed here, and Aela promised to keep an eye on her.

            He wondered how different she would look now with silver eyes instead of the crimson starbursts. She was so beautiful. Vilkas took a deep breath from his pillow, able to just barely smell where she’d been. Soon it would smell just as much like her as it did him.

            That thought made him smile.

            “Vilkas?”

            A knock accompanied Ria’s shy voice and the nord grunted, getting up from his bed and only then realizing how tired he was. “Aye?” he opened the door and looked down at the imperial woman.

            “You weren’t at breakfast,” she blinked, looking up at him. “Were you out all night?”

            He winced and wondered how he looked that it was so obvious. “Aye, hunting,” he breathed and shifted, holding the door for support.

            “Oh, you’re tired then,” she pursed her lips and he nodded.

            “I’ll be out later to train. In the mean time, just spar with Torvar or Athis,” he started to turn.

            “You could use a shave, I could do it for you if you wanted,” she said suddenly and he glanced back at her. She smelled of something, a mix of interest and concern. He couldn’t get a focus on it, as his head was still spinning from his night.

            Vilkas gave a nod and then turned to his room. She closed the door when she stepped inside, and he started to remove his armor.

            “Here, allow me, Brother.”

            Vilkas watched as she unbuckled his straps and released the latches on his sides. He didn’t have help often, he didn’t need it, but it was nice. Ria moved quickly, and kept her eyes on her hands until she lifted his breastplate over his head and he pulled off his undershirt. Then he smelled her pleasure.

            Vilkas glanced at the young imperial woman beside him as she looked over his muscled chest and stomach. Her pale brown eyes rolled down until they came to his kilt and she swallowed, coming forward to finish aiding him. His jaw tightened as she freed him down to his pants. Then he turned away from her, grabbing his chair and turning it around. She busied herself with mixing a cream to add to his beard before shaving.

            Vilkas sat still while Ria applied the cream and then picked up a steel straight razor. “What does it mean to be on the Circle?” she asked suddenly, drawing the blade over his throat.

            “It is the highest honor of a Companion. Members of the Circle assist the Harbinger as advisors when decisions need made, and they help the new bloods train to better themselves.” He kept his eyes open so he could focus on the stone wall rather than her.

            “And the elf earned a spot in the Circle after being here less than a month?” Ria clarified.

            Vilkas sighed, “Aye. She is not the first to join the Circle so quickly after finishing their Trial. Kodlak had mere days between them. Neriasa has shown us what we needed to see to know she would make–”

            “You call her by name?”

            Vilkas frowned and turned his silver gaze on the imperial. “Aye, as I do others.”

            Ria’s lips turned down. He looked at them, red against her tanned skin, like the paint that crossed her face and under her eyes. They were thick with a heavy curve in the bow, and looked soft. But she held no draw for him. “How does one get the honor?”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Of you calling her by her name?” she said suddenly, the blade running up the other side of his neck and he swallowed, feeling the edge round the apple of his throat.

            “I do not understand,” he frowned at her and she came around to stand in front of him.

            “I know the elf visits you in your quarters. Is that how she gained your favor so quickly?” she spoke rapidly, but softly, and his brows narrowed.

            “What Neriasa and I do has no connection with her success as a Companion. I give her the same time I give you and Torvar,” he glared up at her and she tightened her grip on the straight razor.

            “What does she have that I don’t?” she knelt down, resting between his knees and dropped the blade. “I can do what she does.”

            “Stand, Sister, before you get yourself in trouble,” he felt his lip curl and she bowed her head.

            “I can do better than her…”

            Ria’s hands found the tie on his trousers and he stood, the chair falling back behind him, but she gripped him through the cloth. He growled and pulled away. “Stop this!” he bared his teeth at her and she looked up at him from the ground, her pale brown eyes begging him.

            “Vilkas,” she breathed and stared up at him. “You’re the best teacher I could ask for…. I thought–I thought we had something, and then that _elf_ came here and just­–”

            “There was nothing between us,” Vilkas frowned down at her and retied his pants. “There will never be anything between us.”

            Her face flushed and tears filled her eyes. “I…”

            “You should leave.”

            Her gaze flickered up to him, “I’m not done shaving you…”

            “Go… Ria,” he pointed to the door and looked at the ground. He heard the soft intake of her breath and a faint wave of pleasure rolled off of her toward him. He shouldn’t have said her name.

            The imperial stood and left his room silently. He glared at the doors and sighed; going to the washbasin in the corner to finish the job she’d started.

 

 

            Tilma ran her fingers through Vilkas’s hair and smiled, satisfied. “You should have just come to me.”

            “I was not expecting that to happen, Tilma,” he sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his face.

            “Ria is a young woman and you are a young man, you two have spent a lot of time together, I am surprised you never thought of her this way,” Tilma sat down in a chair in front of him and he frowned, meeting her hooded gaze. “You are a very handsome man, Vilkas, and she is a pretty girl.”

            “I do not want her,” he shook his head and tangled his fingers in his freshly cut hair. “Neriasa has my heart.”

            Tilma smiled at that, “The elf girl?”

            “Aye, she is with Aela and Skjor now.”

            “Ah,” she nodded, knowing what that meant. He sighed and rubbed his mouth, feeling the rough stubble there. “Will there be a wedding?”

            “Aye, when she returns we will plan a trip to Riften,” Vilkas nodded and Tilma beamed.

            “Oh, Vilkas,” she stood and stepped up to him. “I am happy for you, so happy,” she knelt down and embraced him while he sat there. He grinned and circled an arm around her, pressing his forehead to hers.

            “Thank you, ma.”

            He heard her heart stutter like it did when he called her that. It meant the world to her, and he knew he should use it more, but he feared her heart wouldn’t be able to take it. “Vilkas, boy, you are long overdue for this happiness.”

            He smiled at her while she stood. “Don’t go telling anyone. I wanted to allow Neriasa to share the news. I have yet to tell Farkas even….”

            She nodded, “I am excellent at keeping secretes, boy, you should know that.”

            “Aye,” he smiled at her. “I know.”

            She nodded and they left his room, heading upstairs to eat something before he headed out to start training the new bloods. He knew it was going to be hard to look at Ria now, and he only hoped she didn’t try anything else.

 

 

            It was dark before Neriasa returned alone. It didn’t take but one look at her for Vilkas to know something very wrong happened. He went to her, standing from the meal he was sharing with Kodlak and Farkas, ignoring the eyes from the others down the table. She was soaked from the drenching rain that poured down outside, and reeked of blood and silver. He could barely smell the lavender of her hair when he took her in his arms and pulled her to his chest.

            “Are they alive?”

            “Aela is,” she breathed and he felt the pain of loss grip his heart. “He went ahead of us, and they cut him down right before we got there…” her shoulders shook with a sob that filtered up from her chest. “Aela is with him….”

            “Where?”

            “Gallows Rock.” He knew of the Silver-Hand’s den, and nodded. “I’m… exhausted…” she sighed, leaning into him. He could smell her fatigue and nodded.

            “Come, rest.” He turned to see the others coming forward. “Skjor is dead,” he informed them and looked away so he did not have to see their grief.

            “I’ll go,” Farkas grunted and Vilkas nodded.

            “Gallows Rock.”

            “Aye.”

            Kodlak frowned and Vilkas knew without having to hear it that he was disappointed. Skjor had been getting careless with his wolf, cocky, and now it cost them all. He hadn’t just gotten himself killed: he weakened the Companions. Now they had another seat open on the Circle, and after the drama with Neriasa he knew they were going to have a power struggle with the new bloods. His silver eyes flickered to Ria who stood in the back, gripping Njada’s arm.

            Vilkas returned his attention to Neriasa and urged her forward so they could go to his quarters. Once they got there he guided her to a chair and closed the doors while she sighed.

            “There’s so much to take in,” she groaned, rubbing her face, her eyes squeezed shut. “I have a swelling pain in my head no magic can touch…”

            “You’ll get used to it,” he promised and went to his washbasin to grab a rag and wet it. She had mud and blood coating her armor and matting her crimson hair.

            “I can smell everything, things I’ve never smelt before,” she tilted her face up and he came back to her, standing behind her, running the rag over her dirty cheek while she spoke. “I can hear the hearts of those I hunt, and I can smell the emotions they feel. You smile like a fire,” she sighed and smiled. He smirked at that, and tilted his head, running the wet rag down to her neck and she opened her eyes, looking at him upside down. “I love fire.”

            “You smell like lavender,” he told her, meeting her silver eyes. They were stars. Brighter than the crimson auroras they used to be, now they were the sparkling lights in the sky.

            “I like lavenders, my mother would always put them in my hair when I was young…” she whispered and he smiled at her. “I smell…” her brows drew together and her little nose twitched as she sniffed the air. “A girl was here? Ria?” He stiffened and frowned, his brow coming together and she stood up out of the chair, looking around the room. “I… can smell the pleasure she held.”

            “It’s not what you think, Neriasa,” he started and she blinked, her silver eyes widening.

            “She was here with you recently? Tilma’s scent…” she wrinkled her nose and pointed at the chair. “She sat there, with you, but… Ria was here, she was… around you, close. Your scents mixed.”

            “Neriasa, you’re seeing it wrong,” he whispered and came closer, his hands lifting to take her upper arms. She shook her head and bared her teeth.

            “Why was she here with you? Why does she smell of desire?”

            “She tried to touch me, I wouldn’t allow her,” he explained, keeping his voice low and calm. She stared up at him, her doe’s eyes wide. “She thought you got into the Circle through me, and she was under the impression she and I were more than we are.”

            “She tried to touch you?” she growled, her dark lips pulling back over her teeth. They were straight and clean, bright in contrast with her ashen skin. He liked seeing her like this, seeing the beast within come out and show her feelings of possession for him. “Where did she touch you?”

            He frowned and Neriasa snarled, turning for his door. “Love,” he took her and pulled her back to him. “No, I’ve set her right. She will not try it again.”

            “I want to make sure she _can’t_ do it again.”

            He chuckled. “No need for that, Neriasa.” She glared and he looked her over. “Come, let’s get this armor off of you so you can clean yourself. Will you be staying here tonight?”

            “I am not leaving your side again,” she swore, still glaring at his chest. He nodded and they worked each other’s armor off of their bodies. When they were both down to their smallclothes he went back to cleaning her of the grime staining her ashen skin. “Do you remember last night?”

            “Aye,” he nodded, kneeling in front of her as she sat, to run the rag over her shoulders and down her arms. His gaze flicked up to her face to see she was eyeing him, her silver irises catching the light as they rolled down his chest and stomach. Last night had been the first time in a long, long time he’d been with a woman, and the first time he’d ever been with one while in beast form. He _also_ knew that she smelled sweet of her ability to bear children, and the wolf had been more than happy to try to give her what she needed to make them.

            “You claimed me…”

            “Aye,” he breathed, and their gazes locked, silver to silver.

            “To claim you, I give you one of these,” she reached up and brushed the bruise on her neck. He felt his lips quirk and he nodded once.

            “If you want to claim me, aye, that’s all you do.”

            She nodded and stood up. He remained on his knees in front of her. His face was nearly level with her breasts. He loved how small she was; short, and lean, but had curves to her shape. Hips wide for birthing, and breasts healthy to nurse. He wanted to lean forward, press his face into her chest and kiss her, but he held still while she ran her thin, delicate fingers through his hair.

            Neriasa bent down and found his lips with hers. He kissed her back and slipped his hands up to hold her hips. Her hands tangled in his thick black locks and pulled at his roots. He growled and nipped her lower lip. She groaned and pressed against him. Vilkas wrapped his arms around her and lifted her so he could stand. Her heart picked up and her breathing spiked.

            Her legs clamped down on his sides, one of her hands fell to his back, raking her nails across the muscles of his shoulder, while her other knotted in his hair. She used her grip on his roots to draw his head back, and he broke the kiss to obey. Her mouth found his neck and she bared her teeth, lightly running them over his sensitive throat before finding a comfortable point on the side. She sunk her teeth into his flesh, and he groaned.

            His hands on her tightened and he took them to the bed, hitting the mattress with near too much force. She was sucking a painful mark into his skin, but it only excited him more. Vilkas pressed her into the furs and ground his hardening shaft into her leg. She moaned and kicked a foot over his hip. His hand ran down her side and followed the soft skin of her to her toes. Then she freed his neck and he found hers, deepening the mark he’d placed in the soft skin below her ear, the spot she loved him to kiss.

            “Vilkas,” she arched her back and he lowered his face to her lifted breasts, kissing and biting the exposed flesh before nosing the cloth away so he could suck a nipple into his mouth.

            “Neriasa,” he growled and switched to the other peak. She ground against him, seeking the friction of him. The nord brought his hand back up to her hip and removed her smallclothes, leaving her beautiful body naked below him. Trailing kisses down, he buried his face between her legs. The dark elf bucked and cried out as he lapped at her slit and sucked on her clit. She tasted better than last night, sweeter, and he had a faint thought of why, but didn’t allow it to distract him. Instead, he continued, plunging his tongue deep into her and then adding his fingers.

            She cried his name and arched her back. Her legs were thrown over his shoulders, allowing him to cup her ass and slide his hands up to hold her breast. The dark elf wiggled below him, panting as she came close to her end, and he smiled into her.

            His name fell from her sweet lips with a cry.

            Vilkas wiped his face and came up to Neriasa’s side. She tried to steady her breathing, looking at him with bright silver eyes.

            “I’ve never been touched that way before,” she sighed and he nodded.

            “Good, I want to be the only one to make you feel that way,” Vilkas circled an arm around her and pulled her naked body against his chest. Her fingers ran through the course hairs of his chest and she tilted her face up for a kiss he was more than happy to give.

            When he pulled back she sighed and adjusted herself to rest her head on his arm. “What will happen now that Skjor is dead?”

            He had nearly forgotten all about that. Suddenly he regretted how happy he was right now, knowing Aela was in the exact opposite state of mind. She lost her mate, now he could imagine that pain. Holding Neriasa, he could see spending his life like this, going to sleep with her each night and waking up to her, going on jobs and standing at her back to take on the world. Aela had that, and then she lost it. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost Neriasa, and he had only just gained her. His Shield-Sister had been with her mate for years.

            “We will bury him, give him a proper funeral, and honor him by making those Silver-Hand pay.”

            “I can help,” she whispered and he nodded.

            “We may need that,” Vilkas kissed her forehead and then her temple, making his way down until he found his mark on her. He grinned and nuzzled it with his nose causing her to smile and whimper.

            “It hurts.”

            “It’ll heal quickly, love.”

            “And yours?” she brushed it and the sting sent a shudder down his spine.

            “’Tis a good pain. Rest, you’ve had a long night and day…”

            “Aye… once things with Aela settle down we should go to Riften,” she hinted and he nodded.

            “Of course, Neriasa, the moment we’re able, even if we only go you and me.”

            “Yes,” she whispered and pressed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Her breathing fell quickly into a slow, sleepy pattern, and he followed behind without hesitation.


	11. Silver Senses Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a growl rumbling up from her throat before she noticed what was happening and Neri was approaching them. Njada saw her first and took a step back, seeing the rage that contorted her face. Ria turned as the dark elf threw her fist into the woman’s face. The imperial stumbled back in shock and cried out. Neri bared her teeth and narrowed her silver eyes at the younger woman.

**Neri**

            Neriasa woke up when Vilkas rolled out of the bed. She watched him, biting her lip as the muscles in his exposed back rippled while he stretched. She could see him just fine in the darkness, her new sight was nice, but she still had a dull ache in the front of her head. Vilkas stood and dropped his only piece of clothing to expose him the rest of the way to her.

            She liked the curve of his ass, and liked how his walk gave it a sinful shake. The teeth on her lip bit down harder, and she rubbed her thighs together. He stopped at his washbasin and used the last of the water from last night to wipe off his face and take off the last of the smeared eye paint.

            “Vilkas,” she breathed, her voice a soft whisper.

            He turned and she sighed, catching the entirety of him. Then he rejoined her in the bed, his hands sliding under her and pulling her away from the furs to his hot body. She moaned as he kissed her, his teeth grazing over her flesh, his mouth sucking pale love marks into her breasts and stomach.

            Her body bent and squirmed under him, unable to hold still with the intimacy of his touch. One of his hands found hers, locked their fingers together, and he pinned it behind her head. His lips came to hers and his free hand delved down between her legs drawing out a pleased cry he muted with a kiss.

            “Quiet, my love, quiet,” he whispered and slipped his thick fingers into her. She bit her lip and muted her groan and arched her back. He kissed down to her breast and latched onto the peak, suckling on it like a starving babe.

            Neri bucked when he hit a new spot within her, and she yelped, pressing her free hand to her mouth to quiet it while the other remained pinned in Vilkas’s under her head. His thumb rubbed her clit while his fingers worked her over the edge and she gritted her teeth, whimpering in pleasure to his amusement.

            “Are you laughing at me?” she breathed when he lifted his head and she noticed his gentle shake.

            “Not at you, love,” he promised and brought their lips together, adjusting so that he was between her legs and she was comfortably lying under him. “Would you like me to continue?”

            “Aye,” she breathed and wrapped her legs around him.

            “Relax,” he whispered, kissing her before adjusting and sliding up so that his lower head pressed against her soaked lips. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

            She nodded and looked down between them, seeing him part her and slide in. He was huge, all of his nord body made her look and feel so small. This here was no exception. She felt like he was going to split her in half, stretching around him to the point it was uncomfortable. A soft whimper left her, stopping him as he allowed her body to adjust to him, and she sighed, her wolf blood easing the pain.

            Neri nodded and he pushed in until he hit bottom. Her eyes locked on the base of his shaft that couldn’t fit within her. Crimson warmed her cheeks and she was suddenly nervous he would be disappointed he could not fit into her all of the way. Then she looked up at his face and saw the sheer pleasure, waves of his happiness rolled off of him and her fear faded away.

            “Divines, Neriasa…” he swore and kissed the top of her head. “You’re perfect.”

            “I’m too small,” she whispered.

            “I love it,” Vilkas promised and rolled his hips so that he withdrew and then fell back in. She gasped and grabbed him, her face pressed into his chest for support as he moved. He went slow, but it didn’t take away from how perfect it felt to have him filling her.

            Neri arched her back so she pressed against him and his thrusts ground against her clit. He moaned at the new sensation, and looked to the heavens before turning his attention back down to her.

            “Do you want children?”

            Her heart leapt and he smiled. She didn’t need to speak, and he bent to kiss her, their lips locked as he adjusted himself over her. His thrusts grew more desperate and his rhythm erratic as he found his sweet end.

            She could feel him pulse within her, and she clamped down around him, curving her hips so she could get him deeper.

            Neriasa wanted to be married and to have children, to have a family and a place to live with food to eat…. She had that here, everything she wanted in one place, under one roof. Here in Vilkas’s bed she had the beginning of a new life that she so desperately wanted.

            Her nord gave her lip a tug when he kissed her and started to withdraw. She pulled him back. “Wait,” she whispered and they held each other.

            “We need to get today started, love. The arrangements for Skjor and plans for taking the fight to the Silver-Hand,” he rubbed his face against hers. “Come, let us break our fast and start the day.”

 

 

            Aela was sitting beside Skjor’s body, her fingers trailing scars on his face and she whispered loving words. Neri stepped up to her side and knelt beside her. The huntress looked over at her, tears rimming her silver eyes. “He shouldn’t have went in without a Shield-Sibling.”

            Neriasa circled an arm around her Sister, and the nord let out a sob. She and Skjor had kept their relationship a secrete from those outside the Circle, but now it was known. No one said anything, no one stared. They went on about their days, but with grief obvious on their faces.

            “I want those Silver-Hand bastards to pay. All of them,” Aela whispered so quietly only Neri could hear. “I want to taste their hearts and hear their screams.”

            Neriasa nodded and pressed her forehead into the huntress’s. “I’m with you, Sister.”

            Aela smiled and brushed away her tears with the palm of her hand. “The old man won’t want us to, we’ll take care of this in private.”

            Neri nodded once and the nord glanced up, passed her. “What is it, Farkas?”

            “I came to pay my respects.”

            Neri looked up at the twin and saw the frown on his lips. He looked so different from Vilkas when you got to know them. The women stood from the platform they had Skjor resting on and allowed the man to take their place.

            Aela rested a hand on his shoulder, “You know that we only ever meant our words as jests, aye? He respected you, Farkas.”

            “I know,” the twin looked up at her and rested his hand on hers. Neri looked around the training yard, away from the three nords in front of her.

            Vilkas was trying to get Torvar to follow his instructions, and Ria was sparing with Njada. Athis was out hunting she thought, with a new blood wood elf. Her eyes locked on Ria.

            The imperial was winning the spar against the nord, taking fewer strikes and dealing stronger ones. Neri’s silver eyes focused on her face, how it flushed with her effort. She was cute, with thick red painted lips, matching lines following her eyes, bringing out the brown, making it look brighter. Her dark hair was cropped short and tied away from her face.

            She imagined that imperial touching her nord. Ria was bigger than Neri, taller by several inches and proportionate. She had a narrow set of hips, and her waist had little curve to it, making her look rather straight in figure. Her armor tried to mask this, exposing her sides and had more material at the shoulders and hips, giving the illusion of an hourglass frame that Neri claimed.

            The dark elf felt her spine stiffen when the imperial glanced at Vilkas and smiled. Njada and she stopped fighting and took a break, speaking softly to each other, but Neri could hear the words. Ria’s giggling whisper about having touched Vilkas, him being quite the man, giving sweet, tender kisses and light nervous touches as he was just as virgin as she.

            There was a growl rumbling up from her throat before she noticed what was happening and Neri was approaching them. Njada saw her first and took a step back, seeing the rage that contorted her face. Ria turned as the dark elf threw her fist into the woman’s face. The imperial stumbled back in shock and cried out. Neri bared her teeth and narrowed her silver eyes at the younger woman.

            “Speak of my fiancé in such ways again and I will kill you, whore.”

            Ria’s eyes widened and she looked up to see everyone in the training yard watching them. She straightened up. “He invited me to his quarters, behind closed doors–”

            “I don’t care how you spin what happened. He sent you away when you tried to touch him. You reek of your jealousy, whelp, and trying to whore your way into a higher position will not work with the Companions. Learn your place or we will be rid of you,” Neri growled, looking up at the imperial.

            Ria shook her head, “You have no authority! You only just joined the Circle!”

            “She has the same authority as I do,” Aela barked. Farkas straightened at her side, silver eyes narrow, and then Ria looked passed Neriasa to Vilkas.

            The dark elf turned to see her nord glaring heavily at the imperial, his eyes tinted gold, shining brightly against his black eye paint. His hand on his sword was tight, turning his knuckles white. Neriasa turned her attention back to the imperial.

            “You keep assuming that outside reasons are why you have not excelled, but it is you, whelp,” Neri growled. “Stop looking outward and pick up a mirror. Only then will you see what you’re worth.” The dark elf turned and started walking back to Aela.

            Her silver eyes met her Shield-Sister’s and the huntress’s widened, her lips pulled back over her teeth in a gasp and Neri turned just as the imperial’s sword caught her. The blade was aimed at her throat, but she moved just in time to catch it in the side of the face, up to her ear. The dark elf hissed and grabbed her axes just as the other Companions drew.

            The imperial stepped back and Neri swung her axes, turning to beat them against her blocking sword. She repeated and swiped low, hitting her attacker in the leg, taking it out with the curve of her weapon. Ria hit the ground and grunted. Neriasa brought the back of her axe down on the whelp’s stomach, causing her to cough and her breath to leave her in a rush. Then she kicked her in the side and bent over her.

            “Leave us, and _never_ should I see your face again.”

            Ria glared up at her, trying to catch her breathing. She shook her head, “I don’t take orders from you.”

            “Then listen to me,” a rumbling growl came from behind Neriasa. The young woman looked up at Aela’s furious expression. The huntress’s bow was trained on the imperial. “You’re out, traitor.”

            “Aye,” Farkas stepped up, his brother at his side.

            “The Circle has decided.”

            Ria gaped at them all and then looked up at Njada who was avoiding looking at anyone. Her gaze fell to Torvar who was openly staring, but offering no words. The imperial shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “No, please… I have no where to go.”

            “You should have thought about that before you attacked a Shield-Sibling,” Aela growled and pulled the bow tighter. “Leave. Now.”

            Ria stood, scrambling to grab her sword. She looked up at Vilkas who stepped forward. Neri could hear her heart flutter, and smell the hope washing off of the girl. But he grabbed the Skyforged sword and pulled it from her desperate grasp. “You aren’t worth this steel,” he growled and turned away from her, not paying her another glance as he climbed the steps to the awning and returned inside Jorrvaskr.

            Ria looked at Neri then, here brown eyes narrowing into a hate filled glare. “You’ll pay for this. You all will regret this,” she looked at them all and started to back up from them, putting enough distance between them that only Aela’s bow could reach her. Then she started running, heading for the inner city.

            Neriasa let out a long breath and nearly dropped her axes as she relaxed her shoulders. Aela turned her bow on Njada who lifted her hands. “I didn’t much care for her anyway, too needy,” the nord surrendered.

            The huntress lowered her bow and then rested a hand on Neri’s shoulder. “You okay, Sister?”

            “I can’t believe I did that,” she breathed and looked up to meet her silver eyes.

            “You’re a true Companion, and a member of the Circle. You did nothing wrong.”

            Neri nodded and looked off where the imperial had disappeared. She wondered if her words would ring true, or if they were simply spoken in rage. She desperately hoped nothing would come of them.


	12. Crimson Connections, Old and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New blood at Jorrvaskr! Not all the faces are welcome...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three new recruits waited for Kodlak’s approval in the training yard. Vilkas didn’t care much for the look of them, his arms crossed over his chest and narrowed eyes locked on them. A familiar smell of lavender made him relax before she spoke.
> 
> “You looked at me like that when I first came here,” Neriasa whispered and he shrugged.
> 
> “You proved yourself worthy quickly.”
> 
> “Because Aela sent us on a job together,” she smirked and then stiffened. He could smell the wave of fear that rolled off of her and he followed her gaze to the three new bloods.

**Vilkas**

            Skjor’s funeral went well. No one spoke for a long time, and the entirety of Jorrvaskr closed for mourning. Vilkas was distracted by his pride in Neriasa. She had asserted herself without over stepping, and solved a problem without killing someone. He wasn’t sure how she had resisted, he had been aching to tear the imperial woman open the moment he saw his dark elf lay her first on her.

            But Neri didn’t smell as if she had suffered from a bloodlust at all. It impressed him, and made him curious. When they retired to his quarters for sleep, he watched her, trying to see how she faired. Her silver eyes caught him, and she tilted her head.

            “What is it?”

            “Nothing, love, just proud of you is all.”

            “For not killing her?”

            “Aye,” he stepped up to her and ran his fingers through her crimson hair, enjoying the feel of the silken strands. “You are so much better than I.”

            “I wanted to make her regret what she had done…. I wanted to kill her, but my need to simply hurt her was greater.”

            He nodded and smiled, “Again, far better than I.”

            “You would have killed her?”

            “I would not have been able to stop myself. If you would have…” he shook his head and ran his finger over the new scar on the right side of her face, running from the corner of her mouth to the nick now missing in her ear. “Why didn’t you heal it?”

            “I want to remember it,” she shrugged and then tilted her face into his hand. “And Companions don’t need magic.”

            He nodded, pride swelling in his chest, and bowed his head, pressing his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.

 

 

            Three new recruits waited for Kodlak’s approval in the training yard. Vilkas didn’t care much for the look of them, his arms crossed over his chest and narrowed eyes locked on them. A familiar smell of lavender made him relax before she spoke.

            “You looked at me like that when I first came here,” Neriasa whispered and he shrugged.

            “You proved yourself worthy quickly.”

            “Because Aela sent us on a job together,” she smirked and then stiffened. He could smell the wave of fear that rolled off of her and he followed her gaze to the three new bloods.

            An imperial man with black hair cut on the sides to give him a bandit like hawk was talking to a young nord with dusty blonde hair. He stood taller than the imperial, but was some size smaller than Vilkas. He didn’t look like much, a stable hand by the smell of horses on him. But Neri’s silver eyes were locked in place, and her entire body was ridged.

            “What is it, love?”

            “That’s… Jamir,” she breathed. “He was… he’s with the Silver-Hand.”

            Vilkas’s muscles tensed and he glared at the young nord. He didn’t look like much, he could take him without effort, he was sure.

            “Why is he here?”

            “He’s looking to join with the imperial and orc.”

            He saw her shudder and shake her head. “I sent him letters, I set up meetings, but I never went…”

            Vilkas’s eyes settled on the nord again. The boy looked around and then saw Neri beside the Companion. His lip quirked up, but he returned his attention to the imperial he was speaking with.

            “He’s probably come to check on you. If he sees your eyes–”

            Neri stiffened and turned away, putting her back to the young nord. “He’ll kill me, Vilkas.”

            “I won’t allow that.” The nord resisted taking her in an embrace. If this Jamir was a Silver-Hand he knew what the wolf armor meant, and Vilkas was one of the most well known Companions –killing at least one of every creature Skyrim had to offer was not a feat many men could claim. If the Silver-Hand learned she was being intimate with a wolf that could be cause enough to kill her, her being one or not. “Neriasa, you’re safe here,” he whispered and she looked at him. Her silver eyes were red rimmed from tears she was forcing down. “Never will harm come to you with me at your side,” he swore and she nodded.

            “I need to change, if he sees this armor…” Vilkas nodded before she was done speaking and she took her leave of him.

            He returned his attention to the three in the yard. The orc came forward, drawing his eye. “Hail, Companion,” she spoke clearly around her fangs, surprising him. He stood straighter, looking her over more carefully. She was a half-orc, taking heavily from the orsimer blood. But her hair was blonde under the foresworn headdress. Her skin was tan with an emerald tint, and exposed more than he cared to see under the custom leather armor she had probably crafted herself. His silver gaze flinted up, noting the purple tattoo of a dragon’s face rounding hers, and caught her crystal-like blue eyes.

            “New blood,” he grunted and relaxed his arms. “What brings you to the Companions?”

            “I seek the means to find the thief that killed my mother,” she answered easily and Vilkas nodded.

            “An honorable enough cause, what will you do when you find him?”

            “Made him pay,” the orsimer answered easily. He nodded once and looked her over. She was strong; he could see the toned muscle of her tattooed stomach between the cut off leather and her battle skirt.

            “Name?”

            “Dovahdrog Keintovitaan,” came his reply. His brow furrowed and she smirked at him around her tusks. “It means Dragon-Lord War-Seeker in the tongue of dragons.”

            “Quite the name,” he complimented. She bowed her head in thanks. His silver gaze flicked passed her. “What do you know of the other two?”

            “Milk drinkers the both of them,” she grunted and frowned, glancing back at them over her shoulder. “They’d wet themselves if I were to brandish my weapon at them.”

            Vilkas chuckled, he liked this she-orc. “Perhaps you should try it?”

            She smirked back at him and lifted a brow. “Less competition, aye?”

            “Aye,” he leaned back against the pillar and folded his arms, watching as Dovahdrog stepped up to the men. When she drew her weapon the imperial laughed and pulled his mace and shield while the nord stepped back, offering up surrendering hands. Vilkas shook his head. He couldn’t see the nord being much trouble, there was no way he would be accepted into the fold.

 

 

            Kodlak did not accept any of the three new bloods. Vilkas could understand why. The half-orc was great in appearance for the Companions, but her heart was broken, seeking revenge. As long as it didn’t consume you, it was a good drive to better yourself, but Kodlak saw in her what Vilkas feared, and it kept her from their order. She took it best of the three, and simply thanked them for their time and departed, giving Vilkas a pride filled smile. He nodded to her and watched as the two men fought against the Harbinger’s decision.

            Aela stood near by, Farkas at her side, both watching, waiting to see if they would need to aid the old nord. But he silenced the men with an echoing voice that nearly shook the mead hall. The imperial left before Jamir, grumbling under his breath.

            Vilkas watched the young nord start to leave, but Neriasa came from where she had been hidden away in the basement. The dull brown eyes of the nord fell on her, and he grinned before stepping out into the evening air.

            Vilkas didn’t like how the nord had looked at her and smiled. There was sick smell coming off him, like pleasure and need, but there was no love in it. It made his stomach churn to know someone thought of his mate like that.

            Neriasa touched his bicep and he looked down at her, circling his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. Her cheek rested on his rips, and she sighed. “He’s gone…”

            “But he’s not leaving for good,” Vilkas growled.

            His dark elf shook under his touch and he smelled her fear. “What if he exposes–?”

            “Don’t,” he whispered and held her tighter. “Come, Aela wanted to speak with you.”

            Vilkas returned to his quarters while Neriasa spoke with the huntress. He had prepared for bed and was lying in the furs when she came into the room, closing the doors quietly behind her.

            “You speak with her softly, hiding something,” he breathed and she glanced back at him while she removed her clothes.

            “She seeks revenge, and I swore to aid her. I do not want the Silver-Hand to ruin what I’ve started to build here,” the dark elf stood before him, naked save a small piece of fabric hiding her sex. She came to him, kneeling on the bed beside him. He watched while she reached up and started to free her hair of the braids tying them away from her face. “I feel a strong connection with her, almost as strong as ours. I cannot allow her pain to go unpunished.”

            “It is because her blood runs through you.” He let his hand reach out and touch her stomach. It was soft, just to his liking, and he knew that under it was a possibility of a child. Her scent drew sweeter each day and he could think of only one reason. But he could not be sure yet. “It is the same connection I feel with Kodlak.”

            She nodded and looked down at his hand on her. “I would very much like to be pregnant,” she whispered, her voice soft. He smiled up at her and then leaned in to kiss her just below the button of her belly.

            “As would I. There is nothing more attractive than the love of your life carrying your child,” he breathed and pulled her to him. “I love you, Neriasa.”

            She nuzzled up against his throat and kicked a leg over his side. “And I love you, Vilkas.”

           

 

            Neriasa left him to clear out a camp of Silver-Hand Aela scouted out. The huntress was also out taking the fight to the Silver-Hand. Vilkas hated the thought of his mate being sent off alone to kill werewolf hunters, but he was assured several times it was only a fist full sharing a single tent.

            He was still worried sick.

            “Brother.”

            Vilkas glanced up to Farkas as he settled into the chair beside him and picked up some meat to put on his plate. “Aye?”

            “You smell troubled,” his brother grunted and cut into his food, not looking up.

            Vilkas sighed and tore some bread in half. “Neriasa is hunting alone is all.”

            “She can handle herself,” Farkas said around a mouth full of meat. “I’m more worried for Aela.”

            Vilkas’s brows furrowed. “What of her?”

            “She lost her mate,” he shrugged. “Now she’s off alone?”

            Vilkas nodded his understanding and relaxed back into his chair. They both had to train the new bloods; the old man had accepted two this morning. He had his hands full with Torvar and the wood elf –Serner or something?– it left him no time to focus on the high elf and Breton that came to them.

            So Farkas was tasked with getting them comfortable with the way of the Companions. From what he’d seen of them, they would make decent Shield-Siblings. The high elf was huge, much taller than Vilkas and thicker, wearing a mass of ebony armor and wielding a two-handed ebony battle-axe. He spoke like a nord, and until he took his helmet off, Vilkas had thought him one. Honestly, it didn’t matter what he was, but in the time of war such as this, having the ability to sound like the majority was a good trick to keep in your pocket.

            He worried about Neriasa, knowing she was a worshiper of Talos as well as the other divines put her in favor of the east, but the east would also kill her because of her ashen skin and pointed ears. That thought made his jaw tighten and he growled wordlessly, tearing his bread apart without eating it. Farkas looked sideways at him and then tipped back in his chair.

            “New blood!”

            “Aye?”

            Vilkas looked up at the high elf who stopped beside the wood elf. It was always a strange thing, seeing how different they were, the smallest and the tallest of the mer, and these two seemed to be the extremes. Serner was maybe five feet tall with a stick thin build and light armor with a hunting bow on his back, hair cropped short and pale brown with eyes like tree bark, and skin tanned like dirt. The high elf was far different, golden skin with green eyes bright like an emerald held in front of a candle, and long, flowing red hair that fell well passed his shoulders and was tied half up out of his pointed face.

            “Get out in the yard, I want you sweating before I make it out there,” Farkas ordered and the high elf bowed his head, stepping back from the wood elf to the door.

            Vilkas turned a half smile to his brother. “More comfortable giving commands with each uttered.”

            “Rothruin is a good fighter, but hard headed, he wants to use magic,” the thicker twin grunted and Vilkas frowned.

            “Can be a hard habit to break.”

            “He is very good at magic,” he sighed and shook his head. “Also is very good with that axe.”

            “How does he wear his armor?”

            “Better than you,” Farkas smirked and his brother punched his arm, hard. “Ow,” the twin breathed and Vilkas stood.

            “I’ll get helping the wood elf and Torvar then.”

            “If you see the Breton tell him Aela was jesting about the golden ladle.”

            “What?” Vilkas glanced down at the nord who was sloppily chewing some bread.

            He rolled his shoulders. “Aela sent him looking for a golden ladle. I think she just wanted him to stop talking to her.”

            Vilkas nodded and glanced around, wondering where the poor soul was before he shrugged it off and went out to train with the whelps.

 

 

            Vilkas didn’t miss Ria, but it was odd not having her around. She had been the newest of them before Neriasa and those since her. He saw great potential in her, she would have made a great Companion, and member of the Circle….

            He could have seen her as more to him as well, but not anymore, not since Neriasa, not since Ria knelt in front of him and touched him. He had thought better of her.

            With a wave he dismissed the new bloods and continued to train on his own, deciding he didn’t want to retire to his chambers until Neriasa returned. He could stay awake just fine until then; the moons were rising brightly in the sky and were still mostly full. They gave him a new energy that kept him alert even after Farkas had finished training with the high elf and the Breton came running up to them waving a golden ladle he’d bought off the Jarl’s kitchen staff for twice its worth.

            Vilkas allowed himself to laugh at the young whelp, but saw a bright future in him that he wouldn’t voice. Telling people of their greatness could ruin them. So he settled on breaking the news that it had been a joke, and the huntress just wanted rid of him. The Breton took it well and decided to keep the ladle anyway.

            It was well passed midnight when a familiar scent of lavender caught the wind. It was subtle, and he knew she was trying to sneak up on him. He pretended not to have caught a whiff of her as the winds changed and took away the smell.

            Then something hard and heavy hit him in the back, latching onto him. He smirked as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She smelled of silver and blood now, hints of lavender making it in as her hair fell over her shoulder and into his face.

            “That’s a good way to get yourself hurt, love,” he chided playfully and dropped his sword to the ground and backed up until he pressed her against the stone wall of Whiterun.

            She grunted and squeezed him tighter. “You would never harm me,” she growled into his neck, her teeth grazing the tendon there. A rumble rolled out of his chest and reached up to hold her hair and pull her to him, his lips finding hers as she moaned at his demanding tug. She tasted like blood, which alerted him.

            “How was your hunt?”

            “I killed the seven of them before they knew what happened.”

            “Seven?” he frowned and grabbed at her, pulling her from his back so that she stood in front of him. He looked over more carefully. There was light staining around her mouth. “You used the beast blood…”

            “Aye,” she flushed and he smelled her embarrassment.

            “Did you eat their hearts?”

            Her jaw clenched. “One.”

            That was better than he thought. He nodded and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. She rested her face on his breastplate and sighed. “You’re so much better than I, Neriasa.”

            “I tried not to…”

            “You did very well,” he promised and bent to kiss her hair. “You were alone and did not give in and feed off of them all, that is… amazing.”

            She squeezed him and then pulled back to look up at him. “Come, let’s go to sleep.”


	13. Silver Tongues for Crimson Deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neriasa held her ground as the blonde wolf bared his teeth and growled at her, his golden eyes locked on her silver ones. Neri stood straighter and wrinkled her nose at him, taking in the smell of nightshade and tree moss on him. Then she rested her hands on her hips and said, “Hello."

**Neri**

It was easier to kill them if she did it in beast form. And the more she turned, the better she felt. It was like relaxing a tense muscle, and when she tasted their blood…

            A shudder ran down her spine, and Neri looked over her shoulder at Vilkas who was lying on his back, an arm behind his head and a book in his hand. He was bare under those furs. A smile tugged her lips up and she peered down at the basin of water and finished washing off her face and body. When she turned, she walked slowly back over to her mate and slid into the bed.

            He bowed the book to look at her over the top and tilted his head to the side. She knew she was giving off her desire, her need for him, and by the smile that pulled at his lips she knew he could smell it. He adjusted where he sat and lifted his chin, waiting to see what she’d do.

            The dark elf pulled the furs down and settled down between his legs, lying on her stomach. Her ashen hands drew light lines up his inner thighs and she trailed kisses behind them. The muscles of his legs flexed under her fingertips, and she smiled, looking at where she touched rather than his face.

            Then her small hands made it to his stiff length, stretching happily up toward the navel. Her eyes took him in and her fingers lightly grasped him, and cupped the soft flesh below. Then her lips pressed a light kiss into it and he let out a relaxing breath, dropping the book over the side of the bed and placing that hand on her head. His fingers brushed away her hair so he could see her face as her tongue slipped out and drew a flat line over his coin purse.

            “Neriasa, you don’t have to…” he whispered and she shifted so that she could continue the wet trail she was making from root to tip.

            “But you like it,” she breathed, letting her breath chill the path she’d just made and he shivered.

            “All right, love,” he sighed and smiled, watching her as she tilted her head and placed kisses along him.

            When her lips made it to the top she straightened up and lapped at the sensitive underside before rolling her lips over her teeth and lowering her head onto him. A soft intake of breath slipped between his parted lips as he watched her, silver eyes locked on hers, unblinking. She closed her mouth around him and gently sucked, allowing a few wet sounds to slip as she lowered down onto him farther.

            Then she pulled back up and off, tilting her head and licking up his length, pulling a moan out of him as she sucked on the underside. His hand in her hair tightened and she smiled, baring her teeth on him playfully. He showed his teeth back and a rumble rolled in his chest. She grinned at that and then lifted her head, taking him in as deep as she could go; catching him off guard and drawing out a whimpering moan that filtered out of clenched teeth.

            She used her hand on what she couldn’t fit in her mouth and twisted as she bobbed her head. Her free hand cupped and massaged the soft flesh below her chin. He was tense and growling at her with waves of pleasure and _need_ rolling off of him, filling her nose. His hand in her hair was tight, but not dominating, allowing her to work as she was comfortable, but she liked how it felt gently tugging on her roots and holding it from her face.

            He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled on his own hair as he came close to his end, his thighs tense on either side of her. She removed her mouth from his length long enough to place a bite on that inner thigh and he growled her name, a sexy sound she wanted to hear again. So she repeated the action on the other thigh and dove back down onto him, her tongue keeping him from hitting her throat and making her gag. She couldn’t take much of him in, she was small just as much here as she was between her legs, but he didn’t seem to mind.

            Neri felt his skin tighten in her hand and she shifted up as he grunted and pulsed.

            “Neriasa,” he snarled, low and animalistic, eyes locked on hers as she looked at him. Her lips clamped down around his lower head and she focused on his expression, not the hot, salty liquid dousing her tongue. When she felt him begin soften in her hand, she sucked on his head to milk the last of him and then slipped off of him with a sloppy slurp. She had to tilt her head up and swallow. It went down hard, and the taste wasn’t her favorite, but the way he stared at her was worth it. “Come here, love,” he growled and bent, grabbing her and pulling her up into his lap.

            “Did you like it?” she asked with a grin and he nuzzled into her cheek and neck. She could smell just how much he liked it, but it was nice hearing it.

            “I love it.”

            “Good,” she kissed his forehead, tasting the light later of sweat that wet his brow. “Should sleep now, I’m sure you’re tired.”

            He chuckled and lowered them into the furs and pulled her onto him so she had her head on his chest and could hear his heartbeat. She liked this, and suddenly didn’t mind how small she was. His breathing didn’t labor with her full weight on him. She relished the heat of him warming her nude body between the furs, feeling just like the fire he smelled like.

            She fell asleep before him, though, drifting off to the beat of his strong, Nordic heart.

 

 

            Kodlak sighed and Neri flushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry…” she breathed and he shook his head.

            “This sneaking around doesn’t befit warriors of your standing…” he rubbed his forehead and then followed the length of his face with a rough hand. She watched the tattoo on his cheek shift, the skin soft from age, but still strong. “Aela knows better, and so should you.”

            Neriasa’s cheeks were bright as her hair and she shook her head. The huntress had said he would not approve of what they did, they had gone beyond simply avenging Skjor. They sought to destroy the Silver-Hand. It wasn’t so hard now, she didn’t know the people she’d killed. But she knew Driftshade Refuge was going to be a target eventually, and that had been her base. She knew almost everyone there, even if it was only in passing.

            “In any case, I have a task for you, girl.” She blinked and focused on the old man’s face as he looked down in his chalice. “Have you heard the story of how we came to be werewolves?”

            “Skjor said it was a blessing from Hircine, but Vilkas says it was a curse laid upon the ancient Companions.”

            He nodded and took a drink. “The reality is more complicated than both.”

            “What is the truth, then?”

            “The companions are nearly five thousand years old. This matter of beast blood has only troubled us for a few hundred. One of my predecessors was a good, but shortsighted man. He made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. If the Companions would hunt in the name of their lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power.”

            “And they became werewolves,” she breathed.

            “They did not believe the change would be permanent. The witches offered payment, like anyone else. But we have been deceived.”

            “But… we’re more powerful now,” she offered and he nodded.

            “The witches didn’t lie, of course. But it’s more than our bodies. The disease, you see, affects not just our bodies. It seeps into the spirit. Upon death, werewolves are claimed by Hircine for his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a paradise. They want nothing more than to chase prey with their master for eternity. And that is their choice. But I am still a true nord. And I wish for Sovngarde as my spirit home.”

            “Is there a cure?”

            “That’s what I’ve spent my twilight years trying to find out. And now I’ve found the answer. The witches’ magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us. They won’t give it willingly, but we can extract their foul powers by force. I want you to seek them out. Go to their coven in the wilderness. Strike them down as a true warrior of the wild. And bring me their heads –the seat of their abilities. From there, we may begin to undo centuries of impurity.” He stood up and guided her into his quarters, leaving the doors wide. He showed her on a map where the witches were.

            “May I take Vilkas?”

            “You shall have no Shield-Brother this time. But the spirit of Ysgramor goes with you, to restore the honor of his legacy.” Her heart hammered against her ribs. “I do not want the others to know what you’re doing. If it does not work, I do not want to get their hopes up.”

            She understood, but how could she not tell Vilkas there may be a cure for the beast that tormented him so? He never slept soundly through the night, she would wake to his whimpers and racing heart. He promised it was easier with her there, but she wanted him to rest easy, not wake from night terrors and cries from the blood.

            “Talos guide you, lass.”

            Neri straightened up and bowed her head to him, taking her leave. She would have to tell Vilkas she was leaving, it would take her a few days to get all the way out to the location Kodlak pointed out. It was close to the border of Falkreath hold and the Reach. She would need to pack supplies…

            Vilkas was outside under the awning speaking with Rothruin, the new high elf. It was raining, heavily, the skies dark and gloomy. It was similar to how she felt as she adjusted her knapsack on her shoulder. It was heavy from food and potions. She had never fought a coven of witches. One or two mages at a time, sure, and not alone…

            Rothruin chuckled and Neri glanced up at him, he sounded like a nord, speaking with the thick accent just like Vilkas, turning their ‘th’s into almost ‘d’ sounds among other quirks. He was probably the most handsome altmer she’d ever seen, with piercing green eyes that looked as though they created their own light and long red hair that was similar to her own. His shoulders were wider than Vilkas’s, and he was taller than her nord with a massive battle-axe hanging heavily on his back. She finally came forward, catching the end of the conversation.

            “…and I decided I would no longer waste my time with lowlifes like that. Being a bandit chief is great and all, but tedious and you never know when someone’s going to stick you in the back. I would much prefer to see the blade that will kill me coming.”

            “You were a bandit chief?” her brows lifted in surprise.

            “Aye, I had a gang at Bleakfalls Barrow not long ago. A woman came through, and tore my men to bits in their sleep. I was in my bed at the end of the tomb, by this amazing ancient wall, locked away behind one of those dragon claw doors. I got the key off of a dead dunmer when I took the place from a small gang barely worth the energy spent to kill them.” He smiled down at her with a swelling of pride, but she narrowed her brows.

            “A woman came through? And took out your whole gang?”

            He huffed, “Something was different about her. She used duel axes like you but she had this… look about her.”

            Vilkas frowned at that and lifted a brow. “Did you kill her?”

            “No, turned invisible and watched her rummage through my things, take what she wanted and then… the wall,” he frowned, his green eyes narrowing. “The wall lit up and she… absorbed some sort of power from it.”

            “You talking about the Dragonborn?”

            All three of them turned to look at Aela who came forward and eyed the massive high elf. “Dragonborn?”

            “Aye, she’s killed that dragon out by the western watch tower, sucked the soul right out of it, it’s nothing but bones now. The Grey Beards called her right after. I was turning in a bounty when I heard the nord woman speaking to Farengar about a wall infusing her with energy.”

            Neri remembered seeing the beast when she and Vilkas passed it. And the echoing voice on the winds… was that the Grey Beards calling her? That woman that passed her on the road? She had looked normal enough to Neriasa….

            Rothruin gestured to Aela. “Good thing I didn’t let her see me, I could have killed the Dragonborn and then what would we do about these damned dragons?”

            Vilkas chuckled, “You think you could kill the Dragonborn when she tore through all your men?”

            Rothruin glared down at the nord and refolded his arms across his huge chest. “She is but a young Dragonborn, barely able to use her abilities and she didn’t appear to know who she was when she killed my men.”

            “Why did you not defend them? Or die with them?” Aela tilted her head.

            Rothruin answered with a chilling indifference, “They were bandits. Hundreds riddle the roads, I could have gotten more if I wished.”

            “Why come to the Companions then?”

            Neri was also curious. His green eyes fell on the dark elf and then he looked back up at the huntress with a gesture to Vilkas. “As I was telling him. I was tired of sleeping with one eye open around those I’m supposed to ‘trust’.”

            Aela nodded and then looked at Neri, frowning. “Where are you going, Sister?”

            Vilkas then also noticed the knapsack, his face twisting into a confused glare. He knew by the way it hung on her shoulder it was going to be a long trip, and by her smell that she was going to be alone. “I’ve been given a job on the boarder of Falkreath and the Reach. I’m heading out tonight so I can return as soon as possible.”

            “What’s the job?” Vilkas frowned.

            “Just some casters, I can handle it,” she assured him. His jaw clenched.

            “I want to come with you.”

            “I’ll be fine, Vilkas,” she pressed her hand to his chest and ignored how Rothruin shifted to step away from their show of affection. “I’ll be back in a few days. You have to train the new bloods anyhow,” she slapped the high elf’s ebony plated arm and hid the sting her hand suffered. The massive man huffed, but she ignored him.

            Aela shifted, “I’ll come then.”

            “No, really,” she waved at them. “I want to do this alone.”

            Both wolves stared her down with their silver eyes, and she met them evenly with her own. They did not scare her like they used to, now they were family, looking out for her. Aela relented first and offered her an embrace that circled her shoulders, and then the huntress turned to the high elf.

            “All right, new blood, let’s see what you got. Take that bow and shoot that target.”

            The high elf grunted and made a comment about preferring to use his magic to shoot projectiles, which Aela quickly shot down.

            Vilkas wrapped his arms around Neri and pulled her close. “What’re you doing?”

            “I’m just going on a job, I swear, I’ll be back in a few days,” she breathed into his neck and placed a kiss. Then a thought occurred to her and she bit him, drawing out a soft groan from him he muted in her hair. “There, I remarked you so you can’t get rid of me,” she smiled and he chuckled. This earned him refreshing that wonderful bruise below her ear as well. Her hand locked in his hair, keeping him there much too long. When they finally parted she felt cold and already missed him. “I love you, Vilkas.”

            “I love you, Neriasa, stay safe and come back to me.”

            “Of course.”

 

 

            Neri settled down in the tiny camp she made for herself and threw out her bedroll, smoothing her hand over it to get it to lie flatter. Then she sat down on it and looked at the crackling fire. She had been bad. She used her magic to get the fire started, but no one was around to chide her, so she decided it was fine. It wasn’t like she _couldn’t_ start a fire without magic… this way was just… faster….

            She hummed softly to herself and nibbled on bread, looking around at the quiet landscape. She was camped off the road enough that when she put her fire out no one could see her. Since she was alone it wasn’t good to let her guard down where someone could just walk up and… well do anything, steal from her, slit her throat, have their way with her….

            She frowned at that one and pressed her thighs together. Only Vilkas had been between them and she planned on keeping it that way. With the thought of her mate she smiled and closed her eyes, imagining the heat coming off the fire was him drawing closer to her.

            It was then she heard the rustling in the trees.

            Neriasa opened her eyes and ears, her nostrils flared and she looked around. The scent of the wild was heavy, and masked whatever was out there. It was a hunter, it didn’t smell of game, and it knew how to hide.

            Her lips drew back and she stood up slowly, her hands coming to hover over her axes. If she needed to she could light herself on fire, that was always a good back up. She didn’t know how her armor would fair, though, and she didn’t bring the coin to buy a whole new suit.

            A rumble came from the other side of the fire and Neri narrowed her eyes passed the glare of the light to meet golden eyes. She knew right away what was watching her. Her fear faded for only a moment, though, because when it stepped into the light she saw that the wolf had a coat that was black laced with silver lines from age. Its muzzle shone, catching the firelight, tinting the metallic strands to look orange.

            Neri bared her teeth at it and looked over the werewolf, her brows together. It walked hunched forward on all fours, walking on curled knuckles rather than open paws. Its claws were long and looked sharp. She looked up at its teeth as its lips drew back to show them, dripping with saliva.

            Another growl behind her made her turned around and return it, leaning forward into a prepared crouch. She could turn and face them as a wolf if she needed. Her beast blood burned. They had to smell it.

            This wolf had a bright orange coat with a pale under belly and snout. It was smaller and leaner than the older, greying one behind her.

            They circled her, growling warnings, the hair standing up on the back of their necks and down their spines. She hissed and felt the short hair on her neck do the same under her heavy braid. Her lips were curled back over her teeth as far as they could go, showing her ashy-pink gums.

            Another rumble. Another werewolf. This sound was deeper, near thunderous. The growl was enough to startle the other two wolves, and stop their circling. They both looked passed the fire, and Neri straightened up to see over the glare.

            The golden eyes that met hers were large, round, and bright, reflecting the fire between them. The coat around those eyes was pale, nearly white with a faint golden tone she couldn’t tell if it belonged to the light or the wolf. Its lips were drawn back so that the bridge of its nose wrinkled and its long white fangs were shown, bright against the black lips and gums holding them in place. Its long ears were pressed back against its massive head, and it took slow, careful steps forward on its back legs, hunched forward so that its curled fingers nearly brushed the dirt.

            When he straightened up on the other side of the fire across from her, she remembered him. The blonde wolf that had haunted her dreams, the wolf that had killed her parents, her fiancé’s family, and she thought him as well.

            The blonde wolf took another step forward, his massive paw landing in the fire and putting it out, stifling the flame with the thick pad of his foot. Then he lowered his head down, leaving it with hers so that he was hunched forward, knuckles pressed into the dirt.

            She held her ground as he bared his teeth and growled at her, his golden eyes locked on her silver ones. Neri stood straighter and wrinkled her nose at him, taking in the smell of nightshade and tree moss on him. Then she rested her hands on her hips and said, “Hello, Thorbjorn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun Dun DUN! I can't resist leaving chapters like this xD


	14. Crimson Blades Dripping with Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third day, on the other hand, started off so normal Vilkas couldn’t understand how it turned so quickly –so drastically.

**Vilkas**

            His bed was cold without his mate. It brought him back to how he was before her. The only thing that comforted him was the smell of lavender that she left behind in his furs and pillows. Why did it seem like she was lying to him, though?

            Casters? Why was she fighting spell-throwers without a Shield-Sibling?

            He grumbled and grabbed the pillow she used and pulled it close, burying his face in it to smell her. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep, not without her here, not while he worried about her.

            Vilkas leapt out of the bed and grabbed his sword, deciding to train in the yard some and see if it would exhaust him. In the hallway he paused, seeing Farkas standing outside of Aela’s door. She was in front of him, speaking to him softly. He tilted his head and watched them.

            The huntress reached up and took his twin, grasping him by the back of the head and pulling him down to her. Their foreheads pressed together and Farkas stepped closer, his hands holding the nord woman’s hips.

            Vilkas left them alone and climbed up to the yard.

            The sun came up before he was tired, and he simply returned inside to put his armor on and came back out to train the whelps.

            It was a long day, and terribly uneventful. Torvar was more drunk than usual, and that provided comedy for the others, but only annoyed Vilkas. Rothruin used his magic and earned himself a few choice words from Aela. He just smiled at her and shot back some flirts. The huntress was quick to shut those down, and Vilkas noticed the subtle change in Farkas who was harder on the new blood after that.

            Aela and the twins had nearly grown up together. She was family to them, and until Skjor came into her life, Vilkas had imagined Farkas and her more than once. The huntress picked on him, but never harshly, never over stepping.

            He avoided dinner, not wanting to talk to anyone, and simply took food to his quarters and sat on his bed, reading a book while clearing his plate. This time when he finally settled in to sleep he found it quickly, exhausted from his entire day of training.

            He didn’t sleep well, though, and woke up several times. Each time he reached for his Neriasa and remembered she was not there. The cold mattress beside him only depressed him farther and he settled into the bed, staring at his ceiling.

 

 

            The next day was slow with nothing of interest happening. He found himself focusing so hard on what he was doing he nearly missed everything happening around him. He didn’t remember the day when he settled back in to sleep.

            The third day, on the other hand, started off so normal Vilkas couldn’t understand how it turned so quickly –so drastically.

            He woke up from a mild nightmare he didn’t remember and decided to speak with Kodlak and get some much-needed opinions from the old man. His comfort was in the strong hand the nord put on his shoulder and the reassurances that he told him. There was nothing wrong with what he and Neriasa were doing, even as it might appear they were living together out of wedlock, they were bound together with more than words spoke in front of Mara.

            Hircine had gifted them with a greater connection that crossed between forms. And if Neriasa was pregnant as Vilkas thought, then they would have a physical representation of their love. The opinions of those outside of the Companions rarely bothered the younger nord, so he decided to allow this to fall in line.

            His feelings for that dark elf rivaled his love for the Companions, even his own brother. He loved Farkas, would kill and die for him, but it was different with Neriasa. She was a different kind of family, the kind that most men craved to have sometime in their life.

            The thought of her being pregnant, growing a child inside of her that he helped create…. Birthing that miracle of nature and allowing him to hold something that was equal parts him and her… it was the only thing that could make him love her even more than he did now.

            He did not care about her past, that was behind her, and it was not the Companions’ way to judge what Brothers and Sisters did before coming to them.

            Eyes on the prey, not the horizon, not behind you.

            After speaking with Kodlak he broke his fast with Aela who offered up conversation relating to Farkas. He had an idea of why she was so interested in his bother’s personal life, but it became even more obvious with each of his answers and the increased pleasure she gave off.

            “… I’m not sure what sort of women he prefers,” Vilkas frowned, looking at the mammoth steak he was nearly finished with. “He has yet to show any interest in one. Of course, that could be because none have shown an interest in him,” he added and looked at her sideways.

            She flushed under her paint and cleared her throat. “I still mourn Skjor.”

            “There is nothing wrong with showing interest in another male, Aela, we both know you and Skjor were growing apart,” he leaned in to speak softer to her. “You two were great while in beast form, but he had no desire to have the family you crave…”

            Her jaw set and she cleared her throat. “I need to hunt.”

            “Take Farkas with you, I’ll handle the new bloods,” Vilkas put his hand on her shoulder and she glanced up at him, her silver eyes meeting his.

            “Thank you, Vilkas.”

            “Aye,” he gave her a kind smile and she rose, taking her leave to find his brother.

            After that, the day flew by, settling down when he finished sparing with Rothruin who was fighting hard not to use his magic. The high elf was _very_ good with his battle-axe and heavy armor, but when Vilkas handed him any other weapon the poor altmer was worse than a child, trying to use the different weapons as one would the massive axe he so loved.

            They had just gotten him comfortable with a great sword when Vilkas caught a scent on the wind.

            Rothruin nearly took the nord’s arm off when he turned, distracted by the smell of rage and fear. It drifted in from the city, from bodies he did not know. It got thicker as they drew closer, and then he heard the gates of Jorrvaskr open. Vilkas narrowly blocked the whelp and ended their session as a group of Silver-Hand warriors came around to pin them in the yard.

            There were a lot of them, ten total just from what he could see –five coming from either side of the mead hall. He could only guess how many went inside.

            They didn’t speak before attacking. Rothruin was quick to summon his spells –seeing that his battle-axe was out of reach and he was novice with the blade in his hand. Vilkas used the blunted steel blade to open up the bandit attackers. They might have had an organized name, but they did not have the training that compared to a fighting guild.

            The nord turned to avoid the blades coming his way, and used the momentum to swing the dull sword right into his attackers. An orc caught the greatsword in his side, and Vilkas ripped it across his belly to spill his insides on the ground. A red guard man came forward and Vilkas removed his sword arm, causing him to screech in pain while the nord watched hot, crimson blood shoot out and paint the stones.

            Rothruin and the Breton took the five from the other side while Torvar and the wood elf ran inside. The Breton fell to an arrow, but the high elf held his own, ending the archer with a wall of ice that left him with enough force to take out the three Silver-Hand between him and his target. It left one quick, dagger-wielding bosmer woman who lowered into a crouch and cursed him.

            Vilkas took off the head of a nord and threw his training sword into the chest of an argonian who ran at him. The lizard fell on the blade, putting it deeper and keeping Vilkas from reclaiming it.

            More Silver-Hand were swarming them. Rothruin cried out when he took an arrow to the side, in the crease of his ebony. Vilkas also caught an arrow and felt his beast blood burn.

            He threw himself at a bandit, grabbing the man by the jaw and shoulder and wrenched them apart, using the burning of his wolf to strengthen his muscles.

            “Kill the wolves!”

            “The ones in the wolf armor!”

            “Kill them all!”

            Vilkas tore into another wearing hide armor, his fingers curled into claws so that he could break the skin and get passed the muscle guarding the man’s innards. His wolf howled in triumph when his hands closed around the man’s heart and stomach and ripped them from his torso.

            His golden eyes darted from one Silver-Hand to another. He dropped the stomach and held the heart in front of him, eyes locked on the largest female nord he’d seen. She watched the muscle in his bloody hand beat, squirting blood pathetically over his palm onto the stones at his feet. Behind him, Rothruin was taking on four more Silver-Hand, including the bosmer with the twin daggers.

            The nord woman was one of their leaders –she knew what Vilkas was. He wanted her to know. His lips pulled back over his teeth and he lifted the heart to his mouth. The smell was sweet, rustic and hypnotizing. He wanted to eat it, he wanted to look her in the eye as he swallowed the heart of her comrade.

            But that would make him no better than the beasts that caused a group like this to emerge.

            Vilkas dropped the heart and grabbed the silver greatsword that the man at his feet had used. The nord woman lifted her silver shield and mace. Two men flanked her on either side, and Vilkas took a moment to meet each other their eyes.

            “Grave mistake coming here,” he told them. “I’ll carve you to pieces!”

            They descended on him and he moved back, allowing himself a moment to read each other their movements. He blocked the first attack, using it to bash the man back into the woman behind him. Then he turned his blade to catch the one from his left coming to get him in the side. The shield of the nord woman whipped out to smack him, but he backed up to just avoid it.

            Vilkas threw his weight into his swing and took off the head and half the arm of the man to his right, but this put him right in front of the leader’s shield.

            She bashed him and he staggered back, giving her the chance to throw her mace into his side and crack his ribs.

            Vilkas howled, “By Ysmir, you’ll pay for that!”

            “Just die, dog!”

            He rushed forward into her, body slamming her so she stumbled back. This allowed him to get a swing in and cut the tendon in the back of a dunmer’s leg. He went down with a cry and Vilkas kicked him over, dropping the point of his sword into the man’s chest and wrenched it to the side to silence him.

            The shield collided with him again. “You can’t win this! There are too many of us!”

            An arrow flew through the air and smacked the woman in the chest, going right through her leather armor and piercing her heart. Vilkas glanced up to see Aela’s golden eyes narrowed as she shifted and sent another arrow out. Vilkas kicked the woman in front of him down onto her knees and lifted his sword.

            “Shor have mercy on you,” he breathed and dropped the blade so that the silver cut through her spine and flesh, severing her head with an explosion of blood.

            There was a furious battle cry behind him from his brother, but the only thing that Vilkas could think about was how much blood pooled around him… dripped down his hands… down the blade in his grasp.

            His golden eyes flicked up, hearing the blood curdling screams from inside and he ran for the door to Jorrvaskr.

            The mead hall was painted crimson.

            Bodies lied strewn in all manner of position with every combination of limb missing. It was worse here than outside. The smell was only made worse by the fire and the burning bodies pushed onto it. The tables had been over turned, and the ancient wood worked pillars and rails now bore scars from misguided and dodged blades, stained with the lifeblood of those who stood too close.

            Torvar was cutting into a khajiit who bit into his shoulder.

            Athis kicked an attacker into another, staggering them both then used his small, quick blade to spear them.

            Njada used her blade and fist, sending anyone who got too close down.

            The new blood wood elf fired arrow after arrow at the Silver-Hand that came in the door.

            Kodlak stood on the other side of the mead hall from Vilkas. His war hammer swung with deadly precession and speed, but it wore him down in his old age. Vilkas could feel the trouble his alpha suffered. It ached his chest. The beast in side wanted none of the blood now, it wanted to aid his leader.

            Vilkas cut down a woman coming his way, taking out her legs with a low sweep. She screamed and he silenced it by taking off her head.

            An imperial man came at him, he was familiar to Vilkas, the whelp they had denied with Dovahdrog and Jamir.

            “You had this coming, hound,” he growled and threw his mace at the Companion.

            Vilkas sidestepped and used the silver sword to guide his blow away from him. The imperial glared, curling his teeth, but it was a human’s attempt at a beast’s action.

            “You shouldn’t have come back,” the twin barked and threw up his boot to hit him in the stomach and send him to the ground. When he hit his unarmored head smacked the stone floor. Vilkas could tell by how he blinked his vision had been distorted or stolen, but he did not hesitate and dropped the point of his blade into his chest. “You would have lived longer…”

            Kodlak howled.

            It wasn’t the man, though, it was the beast within him.

            A noise that Vilkas had not heard in… years. Not like this.

            Kodlak had not turned into his wolf in a _long_ time. Vilkas nearly forgot what it was like to hear his alpha call on the pack.

            But he did now.

            The sound echoed through Vilkas and shuddered his spine. He could not deny the summon. His beast demanded he relax, allow it to take over. His gums lit up like a fire started in his mouth and his spine hunched forward.

            This opened him up for attack and someone slammed a hammer into his back. He barely felt it over the pain shooting through his body. From toe to hairline, he fought every muscle to keep the beast within.

            Screams echoed far away, but he knew they were filling the space around him.

            He couldn’t allow himself to think about anything else but _not_ allowing the beast to take over.

            Kodlak howled again.

            It was as if a physical blow threw him to the ground.

            Or perhaps it was the hammer.

            Vilkas rolled over onto his back just as that hammer came crashing down into the stone floor, cracking the rock and breaking the head off the weapon.

            The Circle converged within Jorrvaskr, Vilkas could smell his pack, bringing the fight to a close as they allowed the beasts within to take over.

            His own wolf threw him up and onto the hammer wielder. His teeth sunk into the man’s shoulder and tore the flesh from the bone. The taste of the blood in his mouth finished the change and he relaxed, allowing the animal to take over.

            Another howl from Kodlak….

            But it was different…

            It was in pain…

            The Circle froze. Vilkas’s hand pressed into the face of the man below him so he could look up over the flames in the center of the room and see passed the glare.

            Kodlak’s white wolf faded into the old nord man he was as he looked up at the imperial woman in front of him. She had a blade stuck in his chest.

            Aela’s auburn wolf stumbled forward onto her hands and knees.

            Farkas’s charcoal wolf tripped, colliding with two Silver-Hand, bringing them to the ground with him.

            Vilkas’s onyx fur stood on end and his joints buckled. Something pierced his side, but he didn’t feel it. All he felt was his heart break as Ria twisted her silver sword; her brown eyes locked on Kodlak’s silver ones.

            Everything slowed down for Vilkas. He watched the imperial who had pledged her life to the Companions put her muddy boot on the Harbinger’s breastplate and try to push him off of her blade. It was stuck though, having melded with the armor when he shifted back to his human form.

            Vilkas stumbled forward, and his wolf fell away. He crawled passed the overturned table, ignoring the jeering from the Silver-Hand above him. He barely felt the physical jabs they pressed into his flesh between plates of his armor.

            It was like he could feel the pain his Alpha suffered. The silver extinguishing the will of the beast, the blade piercing his heart, the cold embrace of death reaching out and grasping at his spirit.

            Ria gave up on trying to remove her blade, and settled on releasing it, allowing the old nord to fall back, down the steps, and land hard right in front of Vilkas.

            Around him there were shouts. They were taking Wuuthrad’s fragments.

            Because they knew this trance would not last forever.

            They knew that in a moment, the wolves would recover and slaughter them all.

            Vilkas looked up at an orc lifting a battle axe to remove his head. He paid him no mind and returned his attention to the dying Harbinger in front of him.

            A fireball exploded against the chest of the orc and he was thrown back into a pillar, splitting his head open on the sharp corner. He hit the ground in a limp heap, but Vilkas’s golden gaze did not move from Kodlak’s face.

            “…she’ll save us all…”

            The words were soft, barely spoke, hardly heard over the reawakened screams that filled the mead hall. Aela tore into those who could not flee fast enough. Farkas ran after the ones who tried. Vilkas didn’t see Ria leave, but she was gone, left with those who stole the fragments….

            He hoped that Farkas caught up to her. Brought her back here, dragged by the roots of her hair. She was no longer a Companion, but what she had done was one of the worst betrayals he could imagine.

            Vilkas didn’t know how long he knelt beside Kodlak. The old man was gone, as soon as the words left his mouth his spirit departed. He was a cold shell now, the silver sword still stuck in his chest, held fast by his wolf armor.

            Eventually the doors opened and a familiar scent of tree bark and pine needles told him that Farkas had returned. With him were three new scents, and the comforting smell of lavender.

            Vilkas looked up to see his Neriasa standing beside his brother, in front of a large blonde nord and two mer behind them. He stood, looking at the hagraven heads hanging off her belt and the belts of those behind her.

            “Where have you been?” he growled, his teeth pulling back over his bloodstained teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /hands tissues to those who needs them/  
> I am... not as sorry as I should be...


	15. Silver and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We are still engaged…. What happened with your parents was not supposed to,” he stepped forward and when she threw her axe at him he grabbed her wrist and twisted it enough to get her to drop the weapon. She stared up into his silver eyes. “I did want to marry you, Asa. Your father just wouldn’t let a good thing happen, and he started to question me. He learned of my beast blood and my Alpha…” he flinched at the memory and shook his head. “I was new to the blood, I could not deny the call of my Alpha, and when he brought the pack to your home we…”
> 
> “Stop.”
> 
> “I never meant to hurt you...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the attempt non-con comes in. Once Neriasa shifts into her wolf form while interacting with Thorbjorn, he makes a move. Nothing happens, but it is implied it could. Feel free to skip to the second section if you need to.

**Neri**

            “Hello, Thorbjorn.”

            The pale wolf’s head tilted and then his lips pulled back over his teeth, settling into what almost looked like a grin. He straightened up and took a deep breath. The wolf fell away to the massive nord from her past.

            He was tall, nearly the same size as Vilkas, with shoulders leaning more toward Farkas. His golden hair was shorter now than she remembered, with a part off above his left eye and worn rather similar to her mate’s black locks. His beard had been trimmed on the jaw and left thick around his mouth and braided in two small tails in front of his throat. His pale skin was painted with green lines over his hard cheekbones, smooth forehead, and between his fine brows. His silver eyes were the same, wide and lingering.

            “Neriasa… it’s been a long time.”

            “Since the night you killed my parents…” she breathed and he winced, biting his thick lower lip.

            “That night did not go as planned.”

            “Save it,” she barked and grabbed her axes. “Leave me now, or I’ll kill you.”

            He glanced at her, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why have you not yet?”

            “What?”

            “Why haven’t you attacked me yet, Asa?”

            Her heart faltered. So many called her Neri, or even her full name. She so loved hearing Vilkas call to her, his accent melting her. No one but Thorbjorn had ever taken to calling her by the end of her name. She had always liked it, and told him so on one of their dates.

            “I…” she blinked up at him and he smiled.

            “You still love me, don’t you, Asa?” he stepped forward and she took two steps back.

            “Keep away from me,” she swung her axe in warning and he tilted his head.

            “We are still engaged…. What happened with your parents was not supposed to,” he stepped forward and when she threw her axe at him he grabbed her wrist and twisted it enough to get her to drop the weapon. She stared up into his silver eyes. “I did want to marry you, Asa. Your father just wouldn’t let a good thing happen, and he started to question me. He learned of my beast blood and my Alpha…” he flinched at the memory and shook his head. “I was new to the blood, I could not deny the call of my Alpha, and when he brought the pack to your home we…”

            “Stop.”

            “I never meant to hurt you,” he touched the long scars on her cheek.

            “Stop,” she growled, looking at the ancient nord armor of his chest. It was like Aela’s. It shared the ability to fade to the beast like the wolf armor she wore.

            “You look even more beautiful with a silver gaze, Asa,” he breathed and lowered his face toward her. She was frozen. His hand on her wrist was gentle, his other came up to brush her hair from her face and neck. Then he saw the mark that Vilkas left. “A male has claimed you?”

            She swallowed and ground her teeth together. “Aye.”

            “And he’s mated with you?”

            “Aye.”

            “Did you mark him?”

            “Aye.”

            Thorbjorn took a step back and frowned down at her. “Is he the one whose blood you share?”

            “No,” she glanced up at him through her brow so her glare was a little stronger.

            That answer made him smile. “The connection is not unbreakable then.”

            “I love my Vilkas, and you,” she stepped back from him, lifting her other axe, “You will leave me now or I will spill your blood like you did my parents’.”

            Thorbjorn shook his head, “My dear Neriasa, I have been looking for you since you left your parents estate. I followed your scent to those Silver-Hand wretches, and then to Whiterun….” He stepped closer and grabbed her arm when she swung the axe. He was fast, but she realized she wasn’t trying her hardest. She was weak around him. She could face him in wolf form with confidence because it had been that pale beast that killed her parents, not the man in front of her.

            Before she thought they were the same, but the beast inside is not the person. They are two beings sharing a body with some control over the other. Right now her wolf was taking an interest in the male in front of her who sent off waves of interest and pleasure. She didn’t know how she smelled, but he liked it.

            “Let me go, Thorbjorn.”

            He pulled her closer, “No, Neriasa, I lost you once to my weakness, I won’t allow that again.” The nord’s arm wrapped around her and held her to his chest. This freed his other arm and he swept her hair out of the way, dipping down to press a soft kiss into the side of her neck, the same place Vilkas had left his mark but under the other ear. “Let’s see how he reacts when I mark you for myself?”

            “No!” she growled and pushed against his chest. The male bared his teeth and bit into her, drawing out a mixed sound of pleasure and pain. “Stop!” she bared her own teeth and tried to free her arms from his hold.

            “There,” he grinned and pulled away. “Should be interesting when he sees that, aye?”

            “What have you done?” she growled at him and threw herself from him when his arm released her.

            “I’m not letting you go so easily, Asa. You were mine before his, and I will not simply step aside and allow another male to take what is mine.”

            “It isn’t up to you, I decide my mate, and I want Vilkas!” she snarled at him and felt her beast blood boil. Her gums ached and her teeth shifted.

            “We’ll see what your beast thinks, shall we?” He relaxed, falling forward and allowing his pale wolf to come forth.

            Neriasa shifted in reaction, her body relaxing and changing in a moment, almost no pain split her limbs. She stood up on her hind legs to bare her teeth and growl at him. He stooped low and came forward; his ears back, walking on all fours.

            When Thorbjorn stepped closer and it earned him a heavy paw across the face, her claws digging into the flesh and tearing it.

            The other two wolves leapt forward and she bowed down onto all fours. The orange beast tackled her to the ground and snapped at her face. Neriasa kicked at her and found the soft of her belly with a hard jerk of her leg. The female fell off with a yelp and the black and silver male grabbed Neriasa by the neck, his teeth about the break through her flesh when the pale Alpha slammed into him and knocked him to the ground.

            Neriasa forced herself back into her elf form and grabbed her Skyforged axes, holding them up as she turned to look at the three wolves.

            Thorbjorn shifted back and shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting that from you, Asa,” he touched the bleeding wounds on the left side of his face, matching the ones he’d given her.

            “I told you, Vilkas is my mate. You can not have me.”

            “We’ll see,” he smiled and then looked at the other two wolves. He waved at them and they shifted, one of them –the orange female– was a bosmer with short hair shaved on one side, while the other –black with aged silver– was an old dunmer.

            “You need to _go_ before I do worse than scar your face.”

            “What’re you doing out here without your mate?”

            “I have a quest I must complete alone, so leave,” she growled. She felt sick. Her neck hurt where he had marked her and she felt… disgusting now that she’d let him close enough to touch her…

            Only Vilkas had been there, and now Thorbjorn had been. She wanted to throw up. Take a scalding bath. Light herself on fire and curl into a ball. Anything that would get her to stop thinking about his tongue down between her legs.

            “Perhaps we’ll help you?”

            Her jaw tightened and she shook her head. “I said alone.”

            “Without your pack is alone. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Neriasa.”

            She shook her head and started walking away, heading in the direction of the witches’ cave. She shouldn’t have stopped. She should have just kept walking.

            “…I was expecting more from her,” the dunmer male said.

            Neriasa paused and looked back at him. “Excuse me?”

            His silver eyes lazily rolled over her and he shrugged. “You seem a rather weak wolf. Do you not feed?”

            Neriasa bared her teeth and turned her back on them, storming up the hillside to the road. She needed to get away from them. Thorbjorn had an unsettling affect on her and she didn’t want to threaten him touching her again.

            “Asa, let me help you,” the nord came up after her.

            She didn’t even look at him. “Go, Thorbjorn.”

            “No threat this time?” he smiled and she stopped, her hands tightening on her axes so that her ashen knuckles turned white.

            “I cannot… but Vilkas will. The moment he sees the mark you left, he’ll kill you.”

            “I can handle some puny wolf,” he chuckled and Neriasa laughed.

            “Fine,” she wasn’t going to tell him of Vilkas. If he wanted to follow her like a lost puppy then fine. He could follow her right into that witch’s cave and help her kill them, and then help her carry the heads back to Jorrvaskr where he could just see how puny her mate was. “Don’t touch me again.”

            He lifted his hands, “Not until you beg me.”

            “I pray you hold your breath until then,” she grunted and started walking again, placing her axes on her hips.

 

 

            It turned out having Thorbjorn and his pack –Ena the female wood elf, and Galather the dark elf– with to kill the witches might have been for the best. There were twelve, all of them hagravens with familiars and fists full of fireballs. Galather broke his leg, but Neriasa healed it for him.

            They all took beast form, but she held fast as an elf, using her axes much to Thorbjorn’s surprise. When they were between kills he shifted back and asked her why she didn’t use her fire. She simply told him, “Companions don’t need magic,” and then cut down a frostbite spider that was nearly as big as she was.

            When they were done they took the heads and tied them to their belts. It had taken her two days to get to this point. She was ready to return him and go to sleep, holding and being held by Vilkas.

            She wanted to smell the comforting scent of fire on him, and feel his hot, rough hands touch her, run over her bare skin…. She wanted to feel his soft lips on hers and on her neck, to cover the mark that Thorbjorn gave her…

            “Whew, that’s a strong smell,” Ena barked and rubbed her nose. “You must only be recent mates…”

            Neriasa glared over at the bosmer and then glanced up to see Thorbjorn watching her with narrowed eyes will he cut the spine on his hagraven. Neriasa was done collected the heads she was going to carry. They used a fire to heat up their swords and press them into the necks to stop the bleeding. She was still trying to get over the sickness in her stomach and she didn’t like the smell of burning flesh.

            “Near a month,” she answered the wood elf who nodded. So much time had passed so quickly between her coming to the Companions, her and Vilkas’s trip to Markarth and then her being accepted into the Circle…

            The first time they were together…

            She wished she remembered it, but she had very clear pictures of him making sweet love to her in his bed. Each night they would give each other loving touches and kisses. Between Skjor’s funeral and Jamir showing up as a new recruit had been the happiest days she spent locked away in his quarters. She knew how hard it was for mixed couples to have children, but she so hoped she was pregnant with that nord’s child.

            A hand touching her back made her stiffen and she glared up at Thorbjorn who smiled, “We’re about done, what’re the heads for anyway?”

            She didn’t know if she should tell him. Obviously he and his pack didn’t care for being cured, and as much as she enjoyed her beast blood, she wouldn’t mind going back to how she was, now that the option would be given, she wondered how many, and who, at Jorrvaskr would want cured.

            Would Vilkas?

            “I simply needed access to their magic. You won’t need to worry about it.”

            “I’m helping, I want to know what end will come of it.”

            She sighed and looked over at the other two elves that were sitting close and speaking quietly. They were probably a mated pair. “Our Alpha wishes to be cured of the beast blood before he dies so he may go to Sovngarde,” she finally said and Thorbjorn nodded.

            “I can understand that,” he glanced back at his pack and frowned.

            “Are you their Alpha?”

            “Aye.”

            “What happened to the one that helped you attack my parents estate?”

            He winced and tightened his jaw, “It wasn’t like that…”

            “Save it,” she lifted a hand and started for the cave entrance. “I want to get home.”

            The other three wolves followed close behind her. It was oddly comforting to be at the front of a pack, even if it wasn’t hers. She wondered if Vilkas would be made Alpha once Kodlak was cured? Would it help him? Make it harder on him?

            She let her mind wonder while she traveled in silence with the wolves. On the way back a thief was _going_ to try to mug them, but he thought better of it the moment he stepped from the shadows and saw the severed witch heads hanging from each of their belts. Neriasa kept walking passed him while Thorbjorn stopped and stared him down until he slinked back into the shadows.

            Nothing else eventful happened until they were near the western watchtower.

            The dragon’s bones had been collected and removed, but Neri wasn’t thinking about that, she was thinking about the sudden pain in her ears. It was like they were straining to hear something on the wind, they’d been doing this for a few minutes now. Then something hit her right in the heart.

            The dunmer woman’s legs buckled and she stumbled forward onto her hands and knees with a cry. Thorbjorn and his pack immediately checked their surroundings to find the caster or archer that hit her. None could be found. The Alpha knelt beside her and rolled her onto her back. Tears swelled in her eyes and her heart stuttered. Neriasa cried out and arched her back against the ground. It felt like someone had stabbed her and was twisting the sword.

            She didn’t hear Thorbjorn call to her, she could only hear her blood rushing through her ears. Her beast wanted out, to find out what happened. She wouldn’t let it. But keeping down the wolf meant she was on fire. Her limbs ached and she lashed out against the nord trying to touch her.

            It took her some time to finally steady her breathing and for the pain to fade. It wasn’t gone, though, and she wondered what had happened. It had to have something to do with her pack.

            “Asa,” Thorbjorn took her arm and helped her to her feet. He brushed her hair from her face and cupped her jaw. She barely felt it, staring into the distance at the cluster of people running from the city. There had to be about twenty of them.

            “What’re they…?”

            Then she saw wolf armor, Farkas by the hair.

            Neriasa tore herself from the nord’s hold and ran up the road in a dead sprint, grabbing her axes. Silver-Hand ran from the Companion who picked off stragglers, a blood rage fueling him.

            Neri felt it too, the need to kill them, though she did not know what they had done, she could guess. Silver-Hand in Whiterun meant that they’d attacked Jorrvaskr. The pain she felt… someone had died.

            Could it be Aela, to whom she shared blood?

            Vilkas, the love of her life?

            Kodlak, their Alpha?

            Farkas was fine, taking out the legs of those he could reach, allowing them to crawl across the ground with loud screams. The guards handled them. She and her Shield-Brother focused on stopping as many as they could.

            But some had horses and were on them and riding away before either Companion could make it to them. Ena lifted her bow and fired at the leader, sending him to the ground off his horse, but another grabbed its reins and took them out of range of the wood elf.

            “Damn,” the she-elf breathed and put her bow on her back. Neriasa filled a hand with a fireball and took two steps forward, hurling the flaming orb into the air with all of her beast strength.

            It hit one of the horses at the back and exploded enough to knock the others off balance and frighten the mounts, but they were too far ahead of them and recovered quickly. The horse and rider she’d hit were dead, though, and that brought some comfort.

            She turned to Farkas who had tears streaming down his cheeks, drawing black trails down his face with his paint. Her heart stuttered. “Who?”

            He glanced at her sideways and then looked at Thorbjorn who stepped up close to Neri’s back. “Kodlak…” her Brother said, his voice soft.

            Relief and sadness washed over her and she thought she was going to fall over. “Take me to him, Farkas,” she begged and put her axes away as he did his sword. The dark elf woman stepped up to the familiar nord and allowed him to wrap an arm around her and pull her close. A rumble sounded in Thorbjorn’s chest, but they both ignored him and went up to their home.

            Bodies littered the ground outside of the mead hall. Guards and some Companions were checking the bodies. Few paid them any mind. Neriasa climbed the stairs with Farkas’s aid and allowed him to open the door. She stepped inside and froze in the doorway, horror dropping her mouth and sent tears to her eyes.

            The dead were so numerous she couldn’t count them. Blood stained _everything_ from the walls to the stone floors, across the tables and banisters and railings and pillars, the rugs and flags and books and food. Nothing had avoided catching a spray of crimson. The smell stung her nose and she had to lift a hand against the bile that rose in her throat. Some bodies had fallen into the fire –or been thrown there– in the center of the room. The feasting table had been over turned completely and used as a shield and cover from arrows, but those that had used it for sanctuary now lie in a pool of their blood beside it.

            At the bottom of the steps in front of her she found her mate. He was dripping with blood –his own and from those he’d killed. An arrow stuck out of his side, but he didn’t seem to notice. He glared up at her, his eyes golden against the shade of his eye paint.

            “Where have you been?” he growled at her, his attention only briefly landing on her company.

            She stepped forward and touched the head on her hip. “I was doing Kodlak’s bidding…”

            “I hope it was important,” he stood up and her silver eyes fell to their Harbinger lying dead beside him, a silver sword stuck in his chest. Her heart stammered. “Because it means you weren’t here to defend him. Those Silver-Hand bastards finally found the means they needed to attack Jorrvaskr,” he climbed the steps, his golden eyes on the unfamiliar wolves now. Neriasa stepped closer to him and then ripped the arrow out of his side. He hissed and she called on her magic to heal him. He watched her, but kept flitting his gaze to Thorbjorn. “We fought them off, but…” he winced and she wrapped her arms around him now that his wounds were closed. She ignored the blood that she now pressed her face into. “The old man… Kodlak… he’s dead,” she could hear his heart racing, pumping furiously at his words.

            After a moment she cleared her throat, “Was anyone else killed?”

            “Aye, the new blood Breton… I’m not sure about anyone else. They made off with the fragments of Wuuthrad. Ria was with them… she was the one who…” he pulled away to look down at Kodlak.

            “Divines,” Neriasa swore.

            “You and I are going to reclaim them,” Vilkas took hold of her upper arms and she met his eyes. They were still golden, the eyes of his beast. “We will bring the battle to their chief camp. There will be none left living to tell their stories. Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung. We will avenge Kodlak, and they will know terror before the end.” She nodded once and he lifted his eyes to those behind her. “Who are you?”

            “Thorbjorn Golden-Hilt, this is my pack,” he breathed low enough that only she and Vilkas heard.

            “What are you doing with my mate?”

            “Ah, so you’re Vilkas.”

            Neriasa glanced back at the blonde nord to see him sizing the other man up. They were a lot alike when it came to size and shape, though Thorbjorn seemed to be right between the twins in build: taller than Farkas, shorter than Vilkas, thicker than Vilkas, thinner than Farkas.

            “And you’re the pale wolf that killed her parents.”

            The blonde sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s not–”

            Vilkas tore away from Neriasa and threw his fist right into Thorbjorn’s face.


	16. Crimson Hearts Ripped and Beating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is he talking about?” Aela turned, brows drawn together.
> 
> Vilkas felt his whole being go stiff. “Nothing.”
> 
> “They don’t know?” the blonde nord lifted a painted brow and then looked down at Neriasa with a frown. “You’ve lied to your pack?”
> 
> Aela stepped toward them, leaning forward, “What does he speak of? Vilkas? Neriasa?”

**Vilkas**

            The blonde nord fell down from the strike and grunted. The two mer behind him started forward, but he lifted a hand and hissed, stopping them. Vilkas returned his attention to Neriasa, at the mark on her neck that he had not left…

            “You _dare_ mark her?” the darker nord bellowed, stepping forward to stand over the man.

            Neriasa glanced around and then put a hand on him. He looked back at her, his beast blood boiling. She glared down at the nord at his feet.

            “I thought you could handle my _puny_ mate?” she spat and then stepped closer into Vilkas’s side. He circled an arm around her and held her close to him, hating the smell of the blonde nord on his mate.

            A rumble shook Vilkas’s chest, and he glared down at Thorbjorn who smirked, “I guess I assumed he’d be an elf. I should have known better by the name, and your… taste in men.”

            Vilkas’s boot shot out and kicked the blonde nord over.

            “Touch my Alpha again, and you’ll regret it, Companion,” the wood elf female pulled her bow on Vilkas, aiming it skillfully at his face.

            “Ena, leave him, he’s only protecting what he thinks is his.”

            “She is _mine_ , as I am hers, and you will do well to leave her,” Vilkas stepped in front of Neriasa and kept a hand on her. Her own touched his sides, keeping hold of him as a sort of comfort that anchored him down and kept his wolf from releasing.

            A clearing throat made them all look over and see Aela standing in front of Farkas and Rothruin. She frowned at the new wolves, then looked at Vilkas.

            He turned to Neriasa, “Come, we’re going to finish those Silver-Hand off.”

            “It would be wise–” Aela started, but Vilkas lifted a hand, cutting her off.

            “You sought your revenge for Skjor, this is mine for Kodlak. Start returning this place to its former glory, we shall bring back the honor of the Companions.” She nodded, bowing her head and turned to the men behind her. Vilkas glared at Thorbjorn and his pack. “Leave or stay, I care not, but if you stay you help them,” Vilkas gently bared his teeth at the nord who stood and glanced down at Neriasa.

            “My pack will stay, but I’m coming with you two.”

            “By Oblivion you are,” Vilkas barked.

            “You can’t stop me, and you’ll need the help.”

            “I don’t need anything but Neriasa.”

            “What about when she sees those familiar faces? When she freezes up because she can’t kill them?” Thorbjorn tilted his head and Neriasa gasped.

            “What is he talking about?” Aela turned, brows drawn together.

            Vilkas felt his whole being go stiff. “Nothing.”

            “They don’t know?” the blonde nord lifted a painted brow and then looked down at Neriasa with a frown. “You’ve lied to your pack?”

            Aela stepped toward them, leaning forward, “What does he speak of? Vilkas? Neriasa?”

            Vilkas could feel his mate’s heart race and smell the fear that fanned off of her. Thorbjorn spoke, “She worked for the Silver-Hand before coming here.”

            The gasps made Neriasa flinch. He felt her shaking from where she stood behind him, holding him for support now. He kept a hand on her arm, keeping her close as Aela grabbed her bow and pointed it.

            “Traitor!”

            Vilkas hissed and put himself between the women. “Put the bow _down,_ Aela!”

            At his words her hands faltered and her breathing caught. They both blinked at each other and her arrow fell to the ground, quickly followed by the bow. Farkas glared, silently looking between them and Rothruin gaped. Vilkas was the Alpha now, and his pack had to listen to his words. Thorbjorn took a step back from the other Alpha and narrowed his eyes.

            Vilkas turned his golden gaze on the blonde nord. “You’re staying here and helping clean this place up, or you’re dropping those heads to your feet and _leaving_.”

            Thorbjorn nodded once and looked over at Aela who still stared at Vilkas in shock. He could smell her confusion. He had known about Neriasa, and kept it from the others. She had known something was wrong; something was kept from her.

            The new pack moved into the mead hall to start clearing out bodies. Vilkas kept his gaze locked on Aela until she settled into a glare and backed into Farkas, her breathing coming in slow, angry breaths. His brother touched the huntress, seeming to comfort her some, but she didn’t remove her eyes from him or Neriasa until Vilkas walked them to the door and opened it, holding it so that she could slip out ahead of him. Before she stepped out she untied the heads on her belt and placed them down on the ground.

            Once outside, he took a deep breath and started walking. Neriasa was quick to follow him, but didn’t say anything until they were outside the city. When they passed the bodies, they headed into the fields to take the quickest route to Driftshade Refuge.

            “Vilkas?”

            He took a moment to reply, and spoke with a quick, short voice, “Aye?”

            She didn’t say anything, and he looked back at her to see her staring at the ground, eyes wet. He stopped and she kept walking, nearly passing him, but he reached out and took hold of her. “He touched me,” she breathed and stared at his chest.

            Vilkas’s jaw tightened and he felt his breathing quicken. He wanted to go back and rip the nord’s head off. Instead, he grabbed Neriasa up in both his arms and pulled her close to him. “Never again will he,” he swore and she cried softly into his breastplate.

            “I… I look at him and I see the man I was to marry,” she shook her head and Vilkas lifted a gloved had to hold her hair. It wasn’t braided like as she normally had it, so it fell into her face and stuck to the blood caked on his armor. He hadn’t grabbed them any supplies or prepared for this journey, but his pride kept him from going back to get the things they may need.

            “Do you still love him?”

            She looked up at him with aching silver eyes, her pain obvious in her face and smell. “I love you, Vilkas, and I can only love one.”

            He nodded and took her face in his hands, holding her so he could kiss her. She tasted like dried blood and sweat; both from her own fight and from what she’d picked up on his armor.

            When he pulled away he kept his forehead on hers and she whimpered, her lower lips shaking. “I wish to be rid of this beast blood, and… to be married to you, a normal life, none of this talk of mates and Alphas….”

            His jaw tightened and he nodded. “If that is what you wish, we will find a way.”

            “That is what the heads are for. Kodlak, he sent me…”

            At the name of their dead Harbinger, Vilkas’s rage reawakened. “Come, we’ll speak of this again when those Silver-Hand bleed.”

 

 

            It was a total blood bath.

            There was so much blood that neither Vilkas nor Neriasa could contain their beasts. They shifted and tore into the wretches that called that old castle home.

            At first, his mate hesitated, outside the gates, she whispered the name of the guard and his favorite flavor of mead. He told her to forget their names, and look at the silver blades that swing her way. She gave him a nod and he kissed her sweetly, catching her lips to steady her, and then pressed another into her cheek.

            When they approached the keep the guard came forward, noticing their armor, not Neriasa’s face. Vilkas cut him down easily, and Neri watched the guard bleed out at her feet, frowning at him before lifting silver eyes, gold flashing over them

            When they entered the castle she took the lead, taking them right through the mass of men and women who had just settled down for a meal. It had taken them a day to get here, and they did not sleep. It would have made it harder on them to fight if their beast blood had not been fueling them to avenge their fallen Alpha, and if Vilkas himself had not just adopted the role, giving him a more powerful presence that strengthened even Neriasa.

            They used their weapons until they were nearly over come and she turned first, seeing him take an arrow to the side and stagger back, falling to his hands and knees while gripping his bleeding side. Her roar feared those closest to her, but she chased them down and ripped into their chests, pulling out hearts from the steal armor she peeled apart like a piece of parchment.

            Vilkas was able to hold back his shift until she was struck in the back with a silver blade that caught her spine.

            The Alpha threw him into the nord and took the screaming man to the ground. Vilkas had changed so fast he didn’t feel it and was burying his muzzle in the man’s chest seeking that beautiful muscle before he could stop himself.

            His teeth pieced it and he threw back his head to swallow it, heavy paws breaking the dead body below him as he turned to survey the area and check on his mate. She whimpered, lying on her side, the open wound bleeding profusely. He lapped at it and growled as more came into the room. The silver of the sword kept her from healing, but if she shifted back and used her magic, or a potion, she would be fine. It was hard to change back with a clouded mind, though.

            Vilkas stood on his hind legs and howled viscously, his head thrown back and his arms spread wide as he sent shudders down each spine in ear shot. The entire keep quaked.

            He tore into the men, ripping them apart with his bare hands and grappling them with his powerful jaws. They started to run away before he was done with them, but he could not leave Neriasa. She was still bleeding, and he came to her, pressing his face to hers and licking at her jaw. She whimpered and sighed, yelping as it stretched the wound.

            Vilkas bared his teeth and nuzzled against her throat, willing her to change back, to use her life-saving magic.

            She shrunk below his nose, and he opened his golden eyes to meet her pained silver ones. His love tried to roll over, and straightened up some, he knelt beside her and she leaned into him. Then she summoned her spell and cast it on herself, feeling the light wash over her.

            He rumbled a protective growl at her and put a heavy paw in front of her, dragging her back into his muscled stomach. She smiled and looked up at him, touching his chest, running her fingers through the black hair. “I am fine, my love,” she whispered and shifted, wincing. He growled again and she pressed her face into him more. “I just need a moment, it… got the bone…”

            Vilkas dipped his head down and licked the side of her face. She sighed and closed her eyes, running her fingers through the fur of his cheek and jaw. He enjoyed feeling her touch him like this. Her small hands slipped through his fur so smoothly…

            “Come, we need to finish them off, I have yet to see Ria or Jamir…”

            They continued, Vilkas taking the lead and keeping Neriasa behind him. She took his sword from where he’d dropped it and placed it on her back and used her axes. Not that she had much to use them on with him tearing apart anything in front of him.

            By the time they made it to the final room, the entirety of the keep had fallen back to bar the door. Vilkas howled and beat on it, his claws raking across it.

            Then he felt Neriasa touch his side. He looked down and stepped back with her until there was a sizeable distance between them and the door. Then she put both her hands together and summoned a fireball. When the orb left her hand it hit the door and blew it right in, sending splinters and stone everywhere.

            Vilkas charged forward and stopped when arrows were trained on him and Neriasa stepped up to his side.

            “Halt!”

            The black wolf looked up on a platform at the steel armored orc who stood in front of Jamir and Ria. The imperial woman was frowning at Vilkas in disgust, and the nord was watching Neriasa.

            “Neri! What is this that Jamir tells me? That you are one of them? That you… sleep with this beast?”

            The dark elf gripped her axes tighter and stepped around Vilkas. “I joined the Silver-Hand to find the blonde wolf that killed me parents, not to destroy all with the beast blood.”

            “So you would have what happened to you happen again? To innocent babes what will never know their mother’s face? Their father’s pride? What of the babes themselves that are swallowed up by the very jaws you kiss?” the orc spat and Vilkas growled, his lips pulling back over his blood soaked teeth.

            “The Silver-Hand are no more than bandits united under a name!” she yelled at them. “Look around you! Why is it that you hide in the shadows? Take up residence in the corpses of old keeps while the ones you say are the enemies are praised for the work they do and the honor they bring?!” she pointed at Vilkas. “Until you made me go to them, this _man_ had not used his beast form in months! He killed those who earned it, followed the laws of the landed, and upheld them! Until this night, he has not eaten the heart of a man in near a year! You are what has done this! _You_ are what creates the beast you fight!” she roared at them and her eyes settled on Ria. “I cannot believe what you have done. After all the honor you sought and the pride you had in the Companions–”

            The imperial cut her off, “How honorable are they that they allow a traitor into their most inner Circle before those who would _kill_ and _die_ for them?!”

            “Am I not here? Killing and dying for them?” Neriasa asked, her voice low and threatening. To that, the imperial glared so heavily her eyes watered. Jamir stepped forward, but the dark elf shifted and threw her axe. He had seen her do it once on the road to Markarth, and twice in practice, but her aim always startled Vilkas to his core.

            Her Skyforged steel spun with a speed and accuracy that he wasn’t sure could have been matched. The axe found its mark, sticking itself in Jamir’s chest with a sickly thud and throwing him back with the force. That was when the others attacked.

            Vilkas leapt forward and tackled two to the ground that tried to get Neriasa while she was standing, glaring up at Ria, and shifted her left axe into her dominant hand. Vilkas focused on anything that got to close to him, their smells mixing and drawing him this way and that. The silver of their blades weakened him with each blow he caught. He was bleeding, but so were they, and if he could, he would swallow one of their hearts, giving his wounds a fresh push to heal.

            A scream sounded off behind him and he looked up, freezing. Ria had his mate by her hair, kneeling down in front of her. The orc that was the leader was sprawled over the steps, his head removed by the clean edge of her axe. Now it was only Vilkas, the traitorous imperial, and his Neriasa.

            “Shift back into a man, dog.”

            “Kill her, Vilkas!” the dark elf shouted.

            Ria pressed a sword into her neck and shook her head. Vilkas took half a step forward but stopped when he saw her blood drip from the edge of Ria’s blade. “Oh, no you don’t want to do that, Vilkas.”

            A growl rumbled deep in his chest and he drew his lips back, letting it out.

            “No!” the imperial shouted and wrenched Neriasa’s hair back to expose her throat more. “Shift _now_ or I kill her!”

            Pain filled him, shaking his limbs. He’d lost his Alpha, and his mate was held with a sword to her throat. How had she even gotten into that position? He could faintly remember her getting passed him and running up the stairs, the grunt of the orc before losing his head…. She’d turned around and Ria had kicked her legs out from under her and knocked her axe away, and then made her scream at the pain she caused by pulling her hair.

            Vilkas dropped to his knees and phased back into his Nordic form. He was unarmed this way, Neriasa had had his blade, and that was the sword Ria was holding to her neck. “Let her go, or I’ll rip your heart out.”

            “Oh no, dog, you don’t get to make threats right now.”

            “Vilkas, kill her,” Neriasa breathed and Ria pulled her hair again and she cried out.

            “Shut up! I can’t believe you,” she growled down at her and bent so that her face was near Neriasa’s. “You just walked in and–stole everything! I was on my way up! I was going to join the Circle and Vilkas would have _loved me_!”

            Neriasa twisted and shook her head, “You’re weak, Ria. You are a good fighter, and smart, but you have a weak heart.”

            “Shut up! I can’t stand hearing you speak!” she turned back to glare down at Vilkas who was starting to stand. “Don’t move!”

            “Ria,” he growled and he could hear her heart stutter. She so loved him it blinded her even now. “Put the sword down.”

            “But… without her, we can… you can be cured of the beast and we can be together, Vilkas.”

            “Put the sword _down_ , Ria…”

            She swallowed and looked down at Neriasa. Her grip on her red hair loosened and the dark elf glanced up. When her silver eyes met the brown ones above her pain fell off of Ria in waves and she looked down to see the mark on her neck beside the blade. Her jaw tightened and she shook her head.

            “No… no! Vilkas,” she looked back at him, blinking hard against tears. “She has to die.” Then Ria drew the sword across Neriasa’s neck and the dark elf gasped, her silver eyes flashing gold.

            “ _No!_ ” Vilkas leapt forward, jumping up the steps to them and tackled Ria to the ground. She was crying, but Vilkas was blinded to her, shifting back into his beast as his fingers curled and pierced her armor, shredding it so he could get to her stomach, then he broke open her tanned flesh and pried her rips apart.

            He did not eat her heart. Instead he ripped it from her chest and pressed it into the stone beside her face so she could see it explode before her spirit left her.

            Then he rose, turning back to see Neriasa lying on her side with her back to him. He fell out of his wolf form, stumbling forward, crawling toward her on his blood soaked hands and knees. “Love?”

            She did not move.

            “Neriasa?” he reached her and pulled her to the side.

            She coughed and blood sprayed from her lips and the gash in her neck.

            “No, love, your magic, please,” he pleaded and pulled her up to him to try to get the blood out of her throat. She coughed again and weakly lifted her hand. Her silver eyes were far away. He could see the layers of flesh, her windpipe open and flooding. “Your magic, please, Neriasa,” he pleaded and held her tighter, lifting her hand. She tried to cast it, but it fizzled.

            She couldn’t focus on it.

            He looked around. No health potions were in sight. He couldn’t lose her, not like this.

            “My love, please, focus,” he cried into her hair. “Focus on your magic, Neriasa…. Stay with me… stay with me…”


	17. Silver Life Hanging by a Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stay with me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but it also is agonizing...

**Neri**

            _Neriasa had been told that before death, your life flashes before your eyes. Someone had laughed and said ‘might as well make it worth watching!’ She had always wondered what her life would look like when it played across her vision. She had, of course, imagined her death would come when she was old, and that she would see children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. She would have her husband by her side as often as he is able, they will have a wonderful home they built…_

_But that wasn’t meant to be._

Neriasa lifted her hand weakly to cast her spell, but her focus was drawn away…

 

 

_She was engaged twice and never married. Lost her parents to the same beast she’d become. Lost the trust in the new family she had so desperately craved…_

_She could see herself in her mother’s arms as a baby, her parents lovingly showing her their home in Morrowind. They were so happy to have her –they’d been trying for so long…_

Vilkas was whispering to her, she couldn’t hear him over her coughing. He lifted her hand to make it easier to cast her spell…

 

 

            _Her memories jumped up to her birthdays, flashing by so fast she nearly missed them. There, she turned ten, and her mother had invited all the highborn children Neri knew. That year she had gotten so many presents, she had cried because she was so grateful for them. And there, that one she turned twelve and had fallen off a horse in an expensive gown, staining it, but her mother only laughed and helped her up._

_Her sixteenth birthday, she was told they were leaving Morrowind to move to Skyrim. She’d been so upset. There was a man, a highborn dark elf, that she was sure she was going to be set up with. He was handsome, with long black hair and smooth blue-grey skin, and fairly young, though much older than her given that he was full-blooded elf._

“My love, please, focus…”

 

 

            _Something was touching her head and it made her life flash again, to her mother brushing her hair out on the day she was to meet Thorbjorn. His gleaming smile, silver eyes, golden hair…_

Her throat hurt and she couldn’t breath, when she tried it felt like she was sucking in water.

 

 

            _Thorbjorn dancing with her in the ballroom of her parent’s estate at one of their parties…_

_She had so loved that night, loved how he towered over her and held her close. He smiled at her and always let her speak before him, so polite…_

“Focus on your magic, Neriasa…”

 

 

            _When she had kissed Thorbjorn after their engagement… she’d been so happy…_

_But then her parents…_

_Torn to bits…_

_Thorbjorn had been that pale wolf, standing over her parents. The dreams were different from what played in front of her now. She… had been… remembering it wrong…_

_The nightmare forgot about the wolf in the corner, the one behind her that she didn’t see. He was dark, black and grey like a shadow, and sat, watching Thorbjorn’s wolf feasting on her parents with an evil grin. It had a long, deep scar going down his right eye, rendering it white._

“Stay with me…”

 

 

            _When Thorbjorn came forward he was trying to stop himself. Tears were filling his eyes, falling into his fur…_

_There was a rumbling growl from behind her, not the wolf in front of her, and Thorbjorn threw her across the room. Then the other wolf attacked him, blooding his paws before coming forward to pin Neriasa to the ground._

_It hadn’t been Thorbjorn that nearly killed her, that she lit of fire: it had been the other wolf, his Alpha…._

            “Stay with me…”

 

 

            _The vision flashed to her joining the Silver-Hand, when she met Jamir on the road…_

_He had seen her scar and asked how she got it. She’d been honest, and he told her he knew where she needed to go to rid the world of the beasts…_

_He’d taken her to Driftshade and introduced her to the Chief of their camp, Luthrak. The old orc had been more than happy to allow her to join, she had the perfect reason, and she had the will._

_It helped that she knew fighting and healing magic as well as was comfortable with her axes._

Neriasa tried to cast her healing spell again…

 

 

            _She hadn’t been with the Silver-Hand but a few months and Luthrak sent her off to Jorrvaskr…_

_She remembered her time there with Jamir, always flirting, always trying to touch her and sleep with her…. He wasn’t the sweet man she thought he was, he was just looking for a weak, defenseless woman to bed…_

_Neri was happy she never allowed him to touch her in that way._

_That only her Vilkas had been down between her legs, giving her sweet touches and kisses._

A pressure was put on her throat. She could feel her beast blood trying to heal the wound before she drowned in her own blood…

 

 

            _Her first meeting with Vilkas…_

_He’d been so… unimpressed, nearly hostile. She didn’t like him, no… no she’d hated him when she first met him. He was the only one she thought to be a wolf, and he was the one she fell in love with…_

_How long had he shared her feelings?_

_He had wanted to eat her heart in Markarth, but he hadn’t…_

_And when she healed his cheek… something seemed to change between them…_

Neriasa coughed and cast her spell again, Vilkas pressed his face into the side of her neck, crying.

 

 

            _Before that… he’d defended her from that nord. He was going to kill her there in that inn after he knocked her out. Vilkas stopped him. It had been because she was a Companion, but… maybe there was a little bit of something else?_

Her spell wavered, fading at her fingertips…

 

 

            _They mated as wolves in the woods not long after…_

_She couldn’t remember it, but now it flashed in front of her like she was standing by watching._

_He had waited for her to be ready, licking at her and let her adjust to him as he mounted her. Then he marked her, that sweet, sweet bruise that painted her skin…_

There was a soft pain in all the agony as Vilkas’s lips pressed into his mark on her neck. She could feel it around everything else. The soft prick that shot down her spine to her core.

 

 

            _When Vilkas mated with her, they were animals, but it was more than that. It was love, and it made her weak to think about even now._

_Despite everything she’d done, he never left her, never turned his back on her…_

_He loved her how she had always wanted to be loved._

_He loved her how no other could._

_Not even Thorbjorn could, not with the history between them._

Neriasa summoned her spell again, her jaw clamping shut with the energy it required…

 

 

            _It was too hard to focus though, her brain kept drawing her back into the visions in front of her._

_Vilkas was holding her, loving her with his mouth in ways she never imagined a man would do for her. She knew men enjoyed women praising them with their mouths and hands, but never had her mother mentioned a man giving what he wanted to receive…_

_She did not know if Vilkas had a lot of practice, but everything he did to her felt amazing, and it made her whole body shake…_

_His large, strong hands always knew just were to touch her, and how to make her sing sweet, pleasured songs for him._

_When he wasn’t between her legs kissing her, he was laying his lips on the rest of her smoky skin._

_And then he would fill her with the gentle ease that stretched her sweetly._

The spell flashed and the light began to spread…

 

 

            _The vision changes again and she is standing in a temple at an alter in front of a golden statue of Mara. To her right is Vilkas, he’s wearing his shining wolf armor, but he had a decorative, crimson cloak falling off his shoulders to the ground where it pools like a waterfall. A matching sash crossed his armor from shoulder to belt with a thick, silver wolf’s head pinned to the cape, holding the fabric together. His hair was trimmed, cut so that his fringe hung to his ears and was swept from his face. The back just brushed his collar, and his jaw was nearly clean-shaven, but she could just see the stubble._

_Vilkas grinned at her sideways, his blue eyes were soft, like calm ocean waves, and drifted down from her face to look at her dress._

_She looked down to see the lovely gown she wore, made from white cloth and crimson trim. She had silver clasps augmenting the front and a silver chain holding a soft ice wolf pelt on her shoulders. Her mounds of red hair had been curled and piled onto her head to keep it from her shoulders, but some strands fell free, brushing against her ears and tickling her neck._

The pain in her neck faded, all of her pain faded, but it wasn’t in relief… she was drifting away from herself… her spell falling away from her hand….

 

 

            _The priest spoke words she couldn’t hear over her beating heart. She just stared up into Vilkas’s beautiful blue eyes. They had several tones, a dark ring around the outside, acting as a barrier to hold the paler colors pooling between it and the pupils. It was so different to see him without the silver…_

_“I do, now and forever…” Vilkas spoke, bringing Neriasa’s red eyes down to his lips, and then her attention to the priest who now looked at her._

_Her breathing spiked. She had missed the oath, but she knew the words he’d spoken now…_

“My Neriasa…” Vilkas held her against his chest, his hot breath on her neck as she went limp in his arms.

 

 

            _“It was Mara that first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all. We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship. Do you, Vilkas, agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?"_

_Her love answered._

_“And do you, Neriasa, agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?”_

_“I do, now and forever,” Neri answered, quickly looking up to the nord beside her who grinned, showing straight teeth that looked… dull compared to how they normally were, too… blunt. Normal._

The pain was gone, her body was numb and she stared forward, her head resting against Vilkas’s shoulder as he cried into her hair and neck, holding her tight. His body shook, but she could only focus on the soft bubbling breath that was becoming harder and harder to push through her throat.

 

 

            _“Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed. I present to the two of you with these matching rings, blessed by Mara's divine grace. May they protect each of you in your new life together. You may now kiss the bride.”_

_Vilkas turned to her and gently took hold of her hips. She faced him and looked up, feeling the weight of her hair shift, but that thought quickly diminished when his lips found hers. It was a little too long, with a little too much need, but it made her flush brightly and beautifully._

_People behind them cheered and she pulled away from her husband to see all of the Companions had come, even Eorlund and his wife sat in the back with smiles. Aela stood in a beautiful dress beside Neriasa, and Farkas mirrored her on Vilkas’s other side, dressed almost as ornately as his brother._

_Her nord took her hand and slipped her ring into her finger. She smiled up at him and looked down at the golden band. Then she took his hand and pushed his into place. As soon as the ring was set, she felt a wave of relief was over her and she glanced up into Vilkas’s silver eyes._

The dark elf coughed, forcing the last bit of fluid in her throat out and onto her armor, down her chin.

            “Neriasa?” Vilkas whispered, his voice cracking.

            “V–Vilkas?” she coughed again and he turned her around, looking at her and shaking his head.

            “Thank the Divines,” he breathed and more tears fell down his face. “You’re alive….”

            She lifted her spell and tried to cast it again, it felt nice to have the healing light touch her, seep into her chest and soothe her lungs. Again, she choked on the blood she’d inhaled and forced it out of her with violent coughs. Vilkas supported her back and turned her so that she could better get it out.

            “You’re alive…” he whispered and pressed his forehead into her hair while she tried to steady her breathing. “I thought I’d lost you.”

            “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised and wiped her forearm across her mouth to clean the blood and spit.

            Vilkas tilted her head up and kissed her, not seeming to notice the taste, and then held her tightly, squeezing so strongly it nearly hurt.

            But Neriasa was just happy she could feel him holding her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Not dead! :D YOU WERE SO WORRIED


	18. Crimson Flames Releasing the Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aela pounced the moment they walked through the door, tackling Neriasa to the ground. Vilkas tore her off of his mate and threw her into his brother who took hold of the she-wolf.
> 
> “Traitor!” she growled again.

**Vilkas**

            Neriasa was alive. Breathing, and holding him. His heart finally slowed down and he pressed his face into her hair. She had been so close to death, had her wound been made with a silver blade she would be dead. The beast blood saved her, healing her throat shut enough with the aid of the spell to stop the blood and get her breathing before she shut down.

            Vilkas just held her to him, felt her breathing, listened to her heartbeat.

            She was alive.

            “Why didn’t you burn her?”

            “She would have cut my throat anyway… she was too close.”

            Vilkas kissed her hair and stroked it away from her face, looking her over. She was his everything, and he didn’t think he would have made it out of here if she wasn’t beside him. “We shouldn’t have come here…”

            “I’m well,” she promised and touched his jaw. “Now… we don’t have to worry about the Silver-Hand anymore.”

            “Aye…” he whispered and kissed her palm. “Come, let us return home.”

            “Home,” she agreed and stood, taking his hand. They collected the fragments of Wuuthrad and things of value, potions and coin and weapons that Eorlund could sell. Then they were on their way back to Jorrvaskr. Home would only offer up more problems, though.

 

 

            Aela pounced the moment they walked through the door, tackling Neriasa to the ground. Vilkas tore her off of his mate and threw her into his brother who took hold of the she-wolf.

            “Traitor!” she growled again. Vilkas looked around. No one was in the mead hall, the majority of the mess had been cleaned, but blood still stained and sat stagnant in the air.

            “Silence yourself,” Vilkas hissed and she clamped her lips shut. “She is no longer one of them. She is a Sister in Honor, and shares your blood. _Act_ like it.”

            Aela glared at Neriasa and squeezed her jaw shut tight. Farkas holds her and then changed the subject, “Kodlak’s funeral starts soon.”

            Vilkas nodded and went to Neriasa who lied on the ground, staring at the other female. He stooped and lifted her off her ass to her feet and she broke the trance she was in. Farkas pulled Aela out the back doors and Neriasa took a deep breath.

            “She hates me…”

            “She just feels betrayed, they all do, but it’ll pass,” he swallowed hard against the emotion in his throat. He didn’t want to go to the funeral and see Kodlak burn, but he knew if he didn’t go he would regret it for the whole of his life. “Come, love,” he circled an arm around her and pulled her along with him

 

 

            “Who will start?”

            “I’ll do it,” Aela said after looking sideways at Vilkas. He should be the one to speak up, but he couldn’t. Too much emotion choked him. “Before the ancient flame…”

            “ _We grieve_.”

            Eorlund continued, “At this loss…”

            “ _We weep_.”

            Vilkas drew in a breath and said, “For the fallen…”

            “ _We shout_.”

            “And for ourselves…” Farkas breathed.

            “ _We take out leave_.”

            Eorlund handed Vilkas the torch and he took it, stepping away from Neriasa to place the burning head into the pyre holding the Harbinger’s body. The flames caught quickly, and the Skyforge lit up, forcing him back a step.

            There was a long stretch of silence as they watched Kodlak burn. He was dressed in his armor, full, even with his helmet, and had his hammer lying on his chest with his hands clasped around it. This funeral far outshined Skjor’s, but that was how the Harbinger’s was meant to be. While the last funeral had only consisted of minor decorations and the Companions, Kodlak’s was fit for a jarl –Balgruuf of whom even showed up with all the other nobility of Whiterun. Everyone brought flowers, herbs, and other plants, Companion flags were thrown up on tall pillars to show tribute, and a hundred burning candles were placed around the forge, melting with its heat.

            “His spirit is departed. Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together.”

            Vilkas barely heard Aela’s words. The others left, everyone but Eorlund and Neriasa, letting him stare at his Alpha’s face through the burning tongues. His thoughts drifted off, but they always returned to seeing Ria’s face as she plunged her sword into Kodlak’s chest…

            Part of him wished he would have eaten her heart, but… it was good he hadn’t.

            She was lost to them the moment she got it in her head she and Vilkas were more than Shield-Siblings. The brief thoughts that she could be more were sickening now, to think he would bind himself to someone so… unstable…

            Neriasa must have caught his scent, because she slipped her arm around him and pressed her cheek into his rib. His hand settled on her and stroked her hair, over the tight braid she had quickly done up after changing to come to the funeral. He had also changed, wishing he could have let himself get distracted in her curves, the exposed skin between her smalls, but Kodlak had kept his mind narrowed.

            Vilkas was Alpha now… officially, with the destruction of the body. He could feel his own power swelling, his wolf… relaxing. He didn’t have to try to hard to keep the beast down and it felt… good.

            Perhaps this was why the old man didn’t suffer like him? Farkas –other than his first transformation– has had an unnatural control over his beast, while Aela let it out often enough the wolf was satisfied and allowed her to do as she wished. Neriasa… he still wasn’t sure about her, she seemed somewhere between Farkas and Aela, allowing the beast to take control, but only when she could not handle it herself.

            “We should go to the Underforge…”

            The dark elf nodded and they walked together, holding each other, leaving Eorlund to look after the Skyforge. Vilkas and Neriasa walked in on Aela yelling at Farkas who was folding his arms and watching her with narrowed eyes.

            The twin cut in, “It doesn’t matter what you think. Kodlak wanted cured.”

            “Aye,” Vilkas stepped forward and Neriasa kept to his side and back, keeping him between her and the she-wolf. She didn’t seem to notice she was doing it. “The old man had one wish before he died, and he didn’t get it. It’s as simple as that. He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde, but all that was taken from him,” he bared his teeth at the words, letting them come out more harshly than he meant to.

            “And you avenged him,” Aela’s silver eyes flicked to Neriasa, then lifted back to her Alpha.

            It was Farkas who spoke next, his face turned downward, “Kodlak did not care for vengeance.”

            “No, Farkas, he didn’t,” Vilkas addressed his brother, their gazes meeting briefly before both males looked at the cross-armed she-wolf. “And that’s not what this is about. We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood.”

            “You’re right –it’s what he wanted, and he deserved to have it.”

            “Kodlak used to speak of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death. You know the legends of the Tomb of Ysgramor.”

            “There the souls of the Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel. We can’t even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it’s in pieces, like it has been for a thousand years.”

            There was a shuffling of feet behind Vilkas and he turned to see Eorlund. “And dragons were just stories. And the elves once ruled Skyrim. Just because something is, doesn’t mean it must be. The blade is a weapon. A tool. Tools are meant to be broken… and repaired.”

            “You… can repair the blade?” Vilkas tilted his head.

            “We have all the pieces, I just need the last from Kodlak’s chambers,” the old smith’s eyes shifted to Neriasa. “You should go, lass, get it from his drawer. It wouldn’t feel right for any of us to go through his things.”

            She nodded and stepped away from her mate, “I’ll return in a moment then.”

            They watched her go, and then Vilkas turned back to Aela. “I want you to stop looking at her like that, Sister.”

            “You should be happy she still has a beating heart.”

            Vilkas’s spine prickled and he took a step closer to her, baring his teeth as they shifted and his eyes flashed gold. “Make the threat again, Aela.”

            “She is a traitor, Vilkas, what would Kodlak have done if he knew?”

            “He did know and was the one to decide we not inform you, or the others,” the twins met each other’s eyes briefly, and then the Alpha settled his stare on the she-wolf.

            She looked… hurt. Betrayed, and almost sick. “I shared blood with that wretch.”

            “You are bound to her, and she you, do not turn your back on her,” Vilkas growled and Aela winced. His voice had power to it now, and she could do nothing against it, but she was never the sort of woman to roll over and submit.

            “I will not harm her, but whatever friendship we shared has been broken,” then she threw a glare at Eorlund. “And unlike a blade, it will not be repaired.”

            Vilkas’s jaw tightened but he nodded once. “Not as long as you hold her past against her. No Companion is innocent.”

            The air was tight, and the space between Aela and the Alpha was tense enough to strangle whoever stepped in it. Farkas kept back, looking between them briefly, but it was Eorlund who spoke next. “I’ll return to the forge and begin preparations.”

            Vilkas stayed where he was, allowing Aela and Farkas to pass him. Then he went to the shrine of Hircine and glared, his eyes taking on a golden glow. His lips pulled back over his teeth and he growled wordlessly, feeling the beast bend to his rage. With each breath it was just a little easier to tame the wolf. Soon he would be nearly free of the torment he was cursed with. Soon.

            For now, the blood sang songs of murder and the need to feed on the hearts of his victims.


	19. Silver Souls Purified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curing Kodlak would not be as simple as entering the ancient tomb and burning the witch’s head.

**Neri**

Thorbjorn was sitting at a bench near the stairs to the basement. Neriasa tried to ignore him, but he came to her when she reached the steps.

            “What happened? You have a wound,” his fingers brushed her neck and she growled at him.

            “Let me be, and leave,” she bared her teeth at him, meeting his silver gaze with a matching glare.

            “I cannot leave you.”

            “Why? Vilkas and I are mated, we are going to be married soon, and there is _nothing_ you can do about it.”

            Thorbjorn looked down and rubbed at his neck. “There was a time when we were promised to be married.”

            “What if I am pregnant with his child?” she lifted a brow at him and he narrowed his gaze.

            “‘If’? Has he not told you? No one?” his looked her over, confused. “I can smell it on you, surly they can as well.”

            “Wh-what’re you saying?”

            “You’re pregnant, Asa. A strong wolf grows within you. I would still take you as my mate, raise the boy as my own,” he stepped closer. “Give you more….”

            Her jaw clenched and she touched her stomach. “I _don’t_ want you, Thorbjorn. I belong to Vilkas.”

            The nord nodded and looked away. After a long moment he finally said, “Very well.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Will you be curing yourself?”

            “I have yet to decide.”

            He nodded and then touched her stomach over her hand. “The child is a wolf. If you cure yourself, you must do the same to him, or he will kill you in birth.”

            “I… I’ll discuss it with Vilkas.”

            He nodded and then brushed hair from her face. “I’m going to leave. I cannot continue on here without you.”

            “Safe travels.”

            “And healthy life to you and Vilkas,” he bent and kissed her forehead. “I will always love you, Neriasa.”

            “Good bye, Thorbjorn.”

 

 

            Neri had given Eorlund the last fragment and was lying on Vilkas’s bed when he finally came in. She lied on her stomach in her smalls, reading Kodlak’s journal. She knew she shouldn’t, but it had been right beside the fragment in his drawer. When Vilkas closed the door, he started to remove his armor, she could feel his eyes on her.

            “Kodlak dreamt of me before I arrived,” she said finally. He didn’t say anything, only came closer to her. She turned her silver eyes over and saw him naked, and then moved over to allow him to slide into the bed. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his chest. She put the journal down and rolled to face him better. “That’s why he allowed me in so easily, why he trusted me so.”

            Vilkas nodded and ran his hands along her body. He looked exhausted and she felt it as well. The stress of having traveled so far, killed so many, nearly got themselves killed, and then the funeral…. It had been so much to take in such a short amount of time.

            “Why haven’t you told me I carry your child?” she asked quietly.

            His silver eyes flicked wide. “How did you…?”

            “Thorbjorn could smell it. I told him it would be best if he left. He’ll no longer follow after me. But he called it a boy, and he seemed certain.”

            Vilkas nodded, “I was not sure, I didn’t want to have any doubts when I told you.” She grinned at him and he pushed her over onto her back so that he could see her belly. “I cannot wait until it shows…” he pressed a kiss into her soft, ashen skin and then let his face rest on it. She ran her fingers through his hair and looked down at him there like that.

            “Come to me,” she whispered and he peered up at her, his gaze flashing gold.

            “Aye,” he breathed and slid between her legs, untying her smalls and quickly discarding them before bending down and kissing her lips.

            Neri’s arms reached up and wrapped around him, holding him to her while he adjusted himself and pressed into her entrance. When he felt the resistance he let one hand slide down between them and brush against her nub, making her buck, then he found her folds and the gentle slick forming between them. His fingers slipped inside and she gasped against his mouth.

            It only took a moment for him to get her comfortable and then he brought his hand up and licked her fingers clean. “I love your taste, my Neriasa.”

            She flushed and then he dove down and found her neck, rolled his hips so he filled her. Neriasa arched her back and pressed against him, her body reacting to his touch, his hand slipping under her, his other in her hair. He steadied his legs and started a swift pace, and she had to throw her legs over his hips and lock her ankles together to keep with him as he drove her into the bed.

            It hurt a couple of times when he would hit bottom, and her yelp always made him back off and slow down, regaining control over himself so as not to hurt her further.

            Vilkas kissed her, deeply, lovingly, as he took her, his hands possessive and roaming, touching her where she needed it to get her worked up toward her high. She moaned into him and panted his name beside her love for him. He growled his reply, and rolled them over so that she was on top of him, held tight to his chest, but she did not have the control.

            Vilkas held her hips and made swift, delicious thrusts up into her. The angle was comfortable, and she loved lying on top of him, her head arching back as she clutched his sides with her knees. Her fingers trailed through his chest hair and the nails dug welts into the flesh when he hit the good spots. It felt so good, she whimpered and looked down at him to see his eyes locked on her, his breathing a near constant growl.

            Her mate’s silver gaze flicked from her breasts pressed against him to her face, her lips parted to allow for easier breathing, her hooded eyes trying to keep contact with him, the mess of red hair haloing her head and falling down onto her beautifully curved back.

            Neriasa hit her end with her mate, being pulled down into a kiss that they both needed. His hands on her softened, no longer digging bruises into her smoky skin, but now soothing the aches with light brushes and kind rubs. She moaned and felt his seed leak out onto their bed, there was already a baby growing within her, and the thought made her smile.

            “How shall we name him?”

            Vilkas lifted a brow and then tilted his head, allowing it to rest back on his pillow. “I claim no family name…” he pursed his lips. “If you so wish we can use yours.”

            “It is an imperial name,” she said and he shrugged.

            “I will not claim the name for myself, I have no need, but if the child so wishes he will be known as Son of Vilkas of the Companions, Son of Neriasa of the Companions,” he grinned and the dark elf flushed.

            “Salvori does not sound near as pleasing as Son of Vilkas.”

            “Vilkason,” her mate breathed and smirked when she rested her face against his chest.

            “I wish to give him a nord name.”

            “What names do you prefer?”

            “Hmm,” she chuckled, “Vilkas, Son of Vilkas.”

            “Ach, don’t do that to the child,” he rubbed her back and she kissed his sternum.

            “Perhaps… Kodlak?”

            He stiffened and then relaxed some. “Perhaps.”

            “Korjer Vilkason,” Neriasa whispered and lifted her head with a smile. Vilkas’s heart lifted and he nodded once.

            “Aye, that is his name.”

            The dark elf felt her being lift and she settled back against her mate’s chest. Closing her eyes and letting herself relax. “My Vilkas… my Korjer…”

 

 

            Curing Kodlak would not be as simple as entering the ancient tomb and burning the witch’s head.

            Neriasa arrived with Vilkas, Aela, and Farkas at the burial tomb and placed the repaired Wuuthrad in the hands of Ysgramor’s statue. It allowed the path to open to them. Vilkas hesitated and then took a step back from the entrance. Neriasa stopped and looked back at him while Aela and Farkas started on ahead, all of them had the witches’ heads tied to their belts.

            “I cannot continue. I let vengeance rule my heart. I regret nothing of what we did at Driftshade. But I can’t go any further with my mind fogged or my heart grieved. You should be cautious, Neriasa, in this tomb rests Ysgramor’s most trusted generals.”

            “Why must we be cautious?”

            “The original Companions, their finest warriors rest here, with Ysgramor. You’ll have to prove yourselves to them. It’s not that we’re intruding –I’d wager they’ve actually expected us,” he smiled some at that and then looked passed her, his eyes saddening. He wanted to come, but he could not allow himself to. “They just want to be sure that you’re worthy, be ready for an honorable battle, Neriasa,” he leaned in and kissed her. She held him close, extending the kiss and kept him from pulling away until she was satisfied.

            “I will return to you, my love.”

            He pressed his mouth hard against her forehead and held her tight. “I will be here, waiting for both of you,” his hand slid down to her stomach and she felt her heart leap.

            Neriasa had never fought ghosts before, and found it quite humbling. They could be harmed only with the best blades, weak blades falling right through their spectral forms, or so Aela explained when her arrow stuck one in the chest and it fell to the ground in a glowing heap of slime.

            She retrieved it and they continued on ahead. The she-wolf wouldn’t look at Neriasa, but right now she wasn’t worried about that. She was focused on cutting down the blue mist-men that came at her with sword and shield. Spectral arrows flew her way and Neriasa hid behind a pillar, looking at the smoking, transparent shaft as it slowly faded away, but left a dent in the wood where it’d been stuck. It could kill her. Easily.

            Her axes clashed with ghostly sword and blocked as many blows as she was given, dealing her own in time and earning her the ability to continue on into the next room. Until webbing coated the walls and spiders started to crawl their way, blocked by only a shield of their own silk.

            Farkas backed away, shuddering and he shook his head. “I can’t go further, Shield-Sister. Ever since Dustmain’s Cairn, the big crawly ones have been too much for me. Everyone has his weakness, and this one is mine. I am not proud, but I will stay back with Vilkas. Give my regards to Ysgramor.”

            Neriasa nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. He sighed and grimaced, leaving with his sword on his back.

            Then the she-elf looked over at her last remaining companion. “Aela?”

            She huntress stood with her back to Neri, her hand tight on her bow. “Aye?”

            “I am sorry.”

            The woman’s jaw shifted and she shook her head. “You lied to me, to all of us.”

            “I did not want to. I planned to tell you when I took the blood–”

            “Why did you not?!” Aela spun on her and then fired her bow at the wall of silk so that the arrow slipped right through it into the face of a spider trying to tear it apart to get to them.

            “Because Kodlak thought it best my past stay there,” Neriasa allowed her silver eyes to narrow at the woman. “You loved and trusted me as a sister, allow me to mend this wound I have created in you!”

            Aela stepped up to tower over Neriasa, a growl rumbling in her chest. The elf stood as tall as she could, but that was only to the other woman’s breasts. “You lost that love and trust when I found out from _another pack_ that I could not trust my own. Vilkas is just as at fault for keeping it to himself.”

            “You would blame and hate your Alpha?”

            She winced and shook her head. “I cannot hate Vilkas, nor Farkas. They are my brothers, in arms and in sight. We grew together, and what wrong they do will never fester deep with me. But you,” she glared, “You do not have years of trust and loyalty built up to spare you. I cannot trust you like I did again.”

            “But you can trust me, and you can allow this to heal,” she looked up at her with a tilted head. “Please, Sister.”

            “Don’t.”

            “I went to the Silver-Hand when my family was killed by a blonde wolf. I wanted to kill him and find a way to keep other families from suffering the same as I had. I was looking for something to replace what I’d lost, and I found it in the Companions, rather than in the Silver-Hand. When Vilkas and I… I hated him when I first met him,” she smiled and tilted her head at the huntress. “I decided that if I could prove he was a wolf, I would kill him first. Yet, he lives, and we expect a child…” she touched her stomach over her wolf armor and smiled. “I could never hurt my family. As soon as I came to realize that you were more than a pack, I stopped sending letters, but it was too late, I’d told them too much, and I will never forgive myself for what I caused, but… I hope that you can. I was made of your blood, and because of that, we are bound together.”

            “Aye, but that means nothing to me…” she looked away, both hands wringing her bow.

            “You lie to yourself. I feel your pain,” she touched her heart and then touched Aela’s. “As you feel mine.”

            The nord looked away and clenched her jaw.

            “Do not let the pride of your people hurt you any more. You want to forgive me, we are sisters…” Neri put her axes away and slid her arms around the nord to hold her in an embrace. The huntress stiffened and then let out a long, shaky breath.

            “I will need time.”

            “I know. Take all of the time you need, I am only happy you’re trying.”

            Aela circled her arms around the elf and they held it for a moment.

            They continued, better than before, slaying the ghosts as quickly as they could emerge, working well as Aela took out the ones from afar while Neriasa took those close.

            The last room was large and circular with a single ghost standing beside a blue fire. Aela drew her bow, but Neriasa touched it, getting her to lower it as they continued forward. As they got closer, the figure became clearer through his glow and Neriasa smiled at Kodlak who looked up and lowered his hands from the fire.

            “Greetings, Shield-Sister.”

            “Kodlak,” Neriasa stepped forward and looked him over. It looked just like him, only transparent with a blue, ghostly mist about him. “Is this truly you?”

            “Of course,” he chuckled. “My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here. Trying to evade Hircine.”

            She glanced around, “But there’s nobody else here…”

            “You see only me because your heart knows only me as the Companions’ leader. I’d wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors,” they both glanced back at Aela who was looking around, smiling at some invisible people. Neriasa wished she could see them, but turned her attention back to Kodlak. “And I see them all –the ones in Sovngarde, the ones trapped with me in Hircine’s realm…. And they all see you, you’ve brought honor to the name of the Companions, we won’t soon forget it.”

            She flushed and looked over at Aela who was watching them carefully now. “Vilkas said you can still be cured,” Neriasa offered and he smiled.

            “Did he now? I can only hope. I see you have the witches’ heads. Excellent. Hand one over to me and I will place it in the fire….”

            Neriasa started to, but saw Aela cut a head from her belt and brought it to him. He thanked her and then stepped forward, dropping the head into the blue flames.

            Then he stumbled back. His blue mist started to show purple in the chest, and something red poked through. He cried out and Neriasa took a step back, grabbing her axes. Kodlak fell backward and the red point jerked forward, out of his chest to show it was the snout of a wolf. Behind it followed the head. It looked as it if were being dragged out of him harshly, and it pained them both. The beast growled, clawed, and bit at the invisible hands pulling it from the old man’s body.

            It was red, like the auroras, and brighter than his own light. When it fell from him completely it hit the ground in a heap and then stood on all fours. Rather than looking like a man, it was an over sized dire wolf. It snarled and charged her. Neri lifted her axes and sliced at its face. It hit her and took her to the ground, but immediately whined as arrow after arrow imbedded themselves in its side.

            Neriasa swung her axe and allowed it to stick in the hound’s neck with a sickly sound, despite no blood coming. The animal’s back arched and it howled. Aela fired another arrow which struck it right in the muzzle and pinned its mouth shut, silencing the sound. The wolf fell onto her, dousing her in the red goo that ghosts left behind.

            Then Aela’s hand came into Neriasa’s view and she took hold of it, allowing the nord woman to pull her to her feet. “Thank you, Sister.”

            “Always, Sister,” Aela promised with a slight hesitation, and used an arrow to pick off some ooze as the walked up to Kodlak.

            He was standing up carefully from where he’d fallen, looking around as if he’d just woken up a long, restless sleep. “We’ve killed your beast spirit,” Neriasa told him.

            “And so slain the beast inside of me. I thank you for this gift. The other Harbingers remained trapped by Hircine, though. Perhaps from Sovngarde, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds. It would be a battle of such triumph…. And perhaps some day, you’ll join us in that battle. But for today, return to Jorrvaskr. Triumph in your victory. And lead the Companions to further glory.” Then he faded away before Neriasa could say anything more. Her heart pounded. Her… lead the Companions? Why? Wasn’t that for Vilkas? He was the pack’s Alpha.

            Neriasa turned around as Aela started to speak, “Did I hear right? Did he say you were to lead the Companions?”

            She tried to slow her heart. “Does this upset you?” She didn’t sound _upset_ , but then again, it was Aela –who had only just started to relax around her again.

            “I’m just… surprised. But your strength and honor are apparent to all,” she swallowed and looked down. She was upset, but it was not because she was not made Harbinger, Neriasa could see that. It had to be that the dark elf was so new to all of this, and allowed so much while the others had to work so hard for the same, or less, recognition. It really wasn’t fair, but Neriasa hadn’t asked for it either. The nord took a deep breath and sighed. “And it’s my honor to be first to address you as Harbinger,” she lifted her silver gaze and bowed her head.

            “Thank you, Aela. But what of Vilkas? He is the pack’s Alpha,” Neri frowned. She wondered how he would take the news.

            “Kodlak was both, but that is not how it must be. You will lead the Companions, while Vilkas will lead us in the way of the beast –should he decide to keep the blood.” She shrugged and then waved for Neriasa to lead the way. “Let’s go tell the others.”

            They walked in silence back through the tomb, noticing the pale pools of ooze marking their fight in. It had all happens so quickly. Not easily, but it was not the worst that she had gone through. It paled in comparison to the fight with the Silver-Hand. Relief washed over her the moment Neriasa stepped back into the entrance and Vilkas was on her, looking her over for any sign of wounds.

            “I’m fine, love,” she smiled up at him and he nodded, kissing her hair and then taking a step back –checking again just to confirm.

            “Did it work?” he finally asked when he was satisfied

            “Aye, he is cured…. Kodlak said I should lead the companions now,” she added and his brows leapt up. Then he grinned.

            “If someone had told me a few months ago that some outsider I had never heard of would lead the Companions before year’s end, I might have slit their throat,” she smirked at him and he shook his head. “But I’ve seen what you can do, looking passed my own love for you, the old man trusted you and loved you in his own way. I know you will show his heart was not deceived. I will be here for you, my love.”

            Neriasa smiled and embraced him. It meant the world to her that he would accept her as the Harbinger, though she knew she would go to him more often for advice than she would go without it –as well as that of the rest of the Circle.

            Neriasa squeezed him and smiled, “You should look at the halls, they are beautiful.” He should see them before they leave.

            “Do you wish to stay with me? Look at them together?”

            “Aye,” she and he walked together, hand in hand, through the halls while Aela spoke with Farkas about the change in command. The two shared close touches and whispered words when Neriasa and Vilkas were out of the room, and it warmed Neri’s heart.

            As she and her mate went about the tunnels, they spoke softly about the carvings, and if Ysgramor had walked these halls when he was alive. They made it to the end after a time, and she explained the fight with Kodlak’s beast spirit, getting covered in the ooze, and still picking some from her hair. He smiled and then looked at the blue fire.

            He told her of the Harbingers he could see, and he spoke with them, boasting some stories, and telling her of theirs when they shared. Then he offered the heads they had to each of those he could see, one at a time. Neriasa could not help, their beast hidden from her view, but Vilkas killed each of the wolf spirits that were summoned with ease, his great sword cutting through what looked like open air.

            In the end, they were left with four heads.

            Aela and Farkas stood in the doorway looking at them, at the now empty room as none of them could see any more Harbingers.

            “There are heads enough to save our own spirits,” Neriasa said and looked up at Vilkas. “Do you wish to keep the beast blood?”

            Farkas stepped forward as his brother frowned and thought. “I wish to be clean, like Kodlak,” he said and they all nodded. Even Aela did not speak against his wish, though her eyes grew sad.

            His wolf was larger than Kodlak’s had been, coming forth faster as well. The moment the head had been dropped into the brazier, it was tackling Aela to the ground before she could fire an arrow at it. Vilkas used his Alpha’s blood to frighten it enough so as to allow Neriasa to cut into its neck and end it before it could harm the she-wolf under it.

            Vilkas went to his brother, helping him up. Farkas was relaxed, and calm, breathing slowly for a long time before finally speaking, even his speech seemed at peace, “Its like I'm relaxing into a mug of warm spiced mead. I'm losing aches I didn't even know I had. This is how a warrior should feel. Alive and alert. Not clouded with thoughts of the hunt.”

            Vilkas smiled at his brother and they rested for a moment. Farkas’s silver eyes darkened into an ocean blue, losing the metallic shine they’d possessed. He stood close to Aela and sniffed at her, telling her how weak his senses now were, but he felt so much lighter and free.

            Neriasa stepped up to her mate and he peered down at her, coming back from deep thought. “Do you wish to be cured?”

            He frowned and looked at the blue flames. “I think Kodlak was right about the beast blood and Sovngarde,” he sighed and closed his eyes. “Aye. I wish to cleanse myself that I might know the glory of the afterlife.”

            “Then I shall as well.” He nodded and cupped her face in his hands. She took a deep breath. “The baby will need cured also.”

            “Two spirits. Two heads,” Aela said and they all looked at her. “We are one short.”

            Vilkas’s eyes widened and he straightened up. “You wish to be cured?”

            “Wolves were never meant to live alone,” she shrugged and looked at the flames. “If one of us is to remain a beast, I will keep my blood.”

            “I should,” Vilkas’s jaw tightened. “As the Alpha…”

            “You have wanted rid of it since you got it, Vilkas, I cannot allow you to live with the beast blood because of me.” He looked like he wanted to argue more, but she only shook her head. “You will take the last, I will remain a wolf.”

            Neriasa frowned and touched her stomach. Vilkas looked down at her and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “You next then,” he whispered to her, his breathing picking up.

            “Aye,” she took a deep breath and took a head Farkas cut from his belt. “Thank you.”

            She tossed it into the fire and was immediately put on her ass with a force that felt like she’d been punched.

            Her chest felt like it was bursting open and something was climbing out of her. She cried out and heard the howling of a wolf copy with her. Then she felt pain sting her in the shoulder, stomach, and spine. Her eyes barely focused on the red spirit wolf that attacked the Companions, taking blows from all three of them. She could feel each wound it caught in her own body as if they were doing it to her. The amount of pain was nothing she’d ever felt before.

            Her being had been pulled apart, she was torn in half, and it left her motionless and unable to aid her fellow Companions against the beast that attacked them. It seemed to recognize Vilkas as its mate, but he attacked it just the same, causing its heart to break as well. Tears ran down her cheeks and she sobbed at the pain and heartache of her beast dying.

            Then Neriasa was washed with what felt like cool water.

            She blinked and looked up at the ceiling, feeling her breathing return to normal and her body drift into bliss. It felt… pure. Her body could finally relax after always being so tense and holding back the wolf. Vilkas came to her and knelt down, lifting her head. “Love?”

            “I’m… well,” she breathed and he nodded leaning in and pressing his nose to her hair, then neck. When he pulled back he tilted her face toward the lights and looked into her eyes.

            “Crimson auroras,” he breathed and ran his thumb over her cheek with a smile playing on his lips. She grinned and took a deep breath.

            “It’s the sweetest relief, my love….”

            “I will follow soon.”

            “The baby…” she started to stand. Vilkas helped her up and Aela handed over the second to last head. “It will be a pup, won’t it?” she frowned and put the head in the fire.

            They all watched as she bent and gasped. This pain was not equal to the one she had suffered from her wolf, but it felt as though she were being stabbed in the abdomen. Doubling over, she looked down to see a small red spirit being forcibly pulled from her stomach by an unseen entity.

            The spirit was in the shape of a wolf cub, not even able to open its eyes yet. Her heart melted when it hit the ground and she stumbled back, falling. The pup turned its head this way and that and mewled small, quiet noises. Her heart broke was Vilkas picked it up and then held it by the scruff of its neck.

            The pain on Vilkas’s face was enough to re-break her heart all over again, though she could see his had already crumbled. They both knew what he was going to do, and it would be hardest on him, as he still had the wolf within him, and it would only be right for him to be the one to cure their son. But this was his own cub, a spirit made from his and Neriasa’s beasts. Her wolf was slain, so she felt little attachment to the spirit now, but it was still a young creature, and it had come from her.

            Aela came forward and offered her Skyforged steel dagger, and he took it in his free hand. None of them looked away when he brought the pup up to him, cradling it like a babe, holding it close before putting the point to the thick tuff on its chest. He took a shaky breath in through his nose and let it out through parted lips before pushing the blade into the cub.

            It let out a strangled yelp and then turned to red ooze just like the wolves before it.

            Neriasa felt tears sting her eyes and Vilkas bit his lip hard handing Aela back the dagger as he looked at the slime on his breastplate and bracer.

            The dark elf stood and went to him, wrapping her arms around him and held him close. “I can feel the ease within me. A strain I didn’t know was there,” she took his hand and pressed it to her belly, he could not feel her through her armor, but it seemed to comfort him. His silver eyes were misty, but his breathing was coming down. She could not hear his heartbeat, nor could she smell him anymore, it was odd, but she had only had the beast blood for a short time, it had to be more strange for Farkas, and soon Vilkas.

            “My turned then…. It will be an Alpha, bigger than the rest, and fierce. I… cannot help fight it.”

            She nodded and Aela readied her arrows. Farkas reached over his shoulder and took a firm grasp on his sword. When he took a step back, Neriasa grabbed both her axes, and prepared herself.

            Vilkas dropped the head into the flames. The blue brightened, blazed higher and then settled. The twin fell back as if he’d been hit in the stomach by a bull, Neri resisted running to him when she saw the wolf’s nose peak out of his chest. They growled in pain together, but as the beast was pulled from him, it got louder, over taking his sound. Neriasa shifted and held her weapons tighter, trying to prepare for the fight that was to come.

            When the wolf leapt out, Aela fired and the animal fell to the ground, stunned, having caught the arrow in the shoulder. Neriasa rushed forward and it lifted its head, bending away to keep from her axe. Then it lunged and took her to the ground, causing her to cry out until Farkas bashed its face, saving her from its teeth.

            The wolf jumped away from them and evaded another arrow. Farkas swung his great sword, backing the animal up with each swipe. Neriasa looked at the fiery golden eyes in the stellar mist of crimson and scarlet making up the spectral form of the beast. It bared shiny teeth and growled so deeply Neri felt her spine quake. Aela loosed another arrow and the Alpha ducked his head to allow the steel to fly right by.

            Farkas circled it, rounding the brazier in the middle of the room with the blue flames. Neriasa kept on her side and they descended on the wolf together. It lashed out like the cornered animal it was, but three blades was too much even for the spirit Alpha, though it did get a good hold on Farkas’s arm before it fell to ooze at their feet.

            The twin hissed and looked at his bleeding wound. Neriasa cast her spell and healed him, though her eyes shifted to Vilkas who was standing up slowly with Aela’s help at his side.

            “It’s… like waking up out of a dream.” The dark elf went to him, meeting him in the middle beside the fire. His hands caught her waist and held her close to him while he looked her over, taking in long drags of air through his nose, testing his new scenes. “I can breathe more deeply now…. I can’t hear your heart beat,” he frowned down at her and pressed his hand into her neck to feel for her pulse. He found it and brushed it with his thumb. She offered him a smile and watched as his silver eyes gave way to the blue underneath, like foam being scraped off of the water’s surface. “My mind is… clear.”

            She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him down to her. “Breathe easy, my love, you no longer have to fight the beast within.”

            “Aye,” he kissed her sweetly and pressed his forehead to hers. “Let us go to Riften now –on our way home– and be wed. I cannot wait any longer, Neriasa.”

            She felt her cheeks grow hot and she nodded, “Aye, let us be wed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the puppy slaying was kinda messed up, but it was the only way that made sense in my mind... >.> /cough/...


	20. Crimson Vows and Silver Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue, kinda short, but it's all happy!

**Vilkas**

            Vilkas’s heart hammered in his chest as he stood in front of the shrine of Mara. He’d never considered himself a religious man, but Neriasa praised the divines, and he would support that. He wore his wolf armor –having had it cleaned until it shone– and he had a heavy, decorative, crimson cloak falling off his shoulders to the ground. A matching sash crossed his armor from shoulder to belt with a thick, silver wolf’s head pinned to the cape, holding the fabrics together. His hair was trimmed, cut so that his fringe hung to his ears and was swept from his face, the back just brushing his collar, and his jaw was nearly clean-shaven, but he could never stand the feeling, so he left stubble.

            At his side, Farkas wore his armor in a similar fashion, but not as ornately. To get him to dress up this nicely had been a hassle enough, he saw no point in it –yes it was a wedding, but there was no point in wearing something that wasn’t _useful._ Aela had ended up putting him in his place because the woman was wearing a dress. One that Vilkas would not have preferred, but it was Aela, and Farkas seemed to like it just fine.

            It was a red thing with silver trim, made of satin and held fast to her figure until it reached her hips, then fell like water. The front was open to show her from throat to navel, the curve of her breasts hiding her sternum, not that you’d be looking for it. Her hair was done half up, spiked behind her head and curled down over her shoulders. She had traded her face paint for modest makeup, and stood with a simple bouquet of lavender, tundra cotton, and the deepest crimson of red mountain flowers.

            They had sent word to Jorrvaskr of the wedding, and asked all that could come, be here. Vilkas looked at each of them, trying to slow his breathing and heart. Tilma sat in the front row, on his side, smiling at him with tears already staining her cheeks. Eorlund and his wife beside Tovar with Njada and the wood elf behind them, Rothruin sat in the back with Athis. Neriasa’s side was empty. Vilkas had asked if she wanted Thorbjorn and his pack to come and she said she didn’t want to see him again if she could help it. He understood, but seeing her side of the temple void made him frown to himself. They were, really and truly, the only family that she had.

            The doors opened showing the priest standing beside Neriasa. She was wearing the most beautiful white gown, trimmed in crimson. Silver clasps augmented the front and across her chest was a silver chain holding a soft ice wolf pelt over her shoulders. Her red hair had been curled tightly and piled onto her head with lavender, tundra cotton, and red mountain flowers weaved into it. In her hands was a large bouquet overflowing to the point of falling nearly to the ground, looking like a waterfall of flowers –the same as in her hair– and leaves, pine cones, and grass. It was perfect for her, and she was so beautiful.

            Her crimson eyes fell on him and she smiled, flushing, looking around the room at the faces as everyone stood up. Then her eyes landed on the empty side of the temple and her lips turned down. Tears touched her eyes and she took a shaky breath.

            Just as Vilkas was about to go to her, Rothruin started moving, crossing the aisle, standing in the middle of her side and gave her a wide smile. She grinned back and her tears fell down her cheeks. Then Athis moved across, Eorlund followed, his wife beside him.

            Vilkas’s heart swelled and he stood straighter, looking at his bride as she walked down the aisle, arm locked with the priest as she had no man to give her away. When they reached the alter, the priest took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, a simple, kind, and respectful press. “I give this woman,” he said and turned to Vilkas.

            “I take this woman,” he replied and the orange robed man moved her hand over to Vilkas’s. He held it tightly and looked into her eyes as the priest stepped around the alter to start. She didn’t wear anything on her face, no paint, makeup, only her natural skin, flushed with her own shyness. “You look beautiful,” he whispered to her and she blinked out another tear. He lifted his finger to wipe it from her cheek with his knuckle.

            Then the priest started, “It was Mara that first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all. We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship. Do you, Vilkas, agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?"

            “I do, now and forever,” he answered, looking right at her, holding her hands in his, helping to support the heavy bouquet. She sniffled, looking up at him with a wide smile.

            “And do you, Neriasa, agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?”

            “I do, now and forever,” Neri answered, quickly, not looking away from Vilkas.

            “Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed. I present to the two of you these matching rings, blessed by Mara's divine grace. May they protect each of you in your new life together. You may now kiss the bride.”

            Vilkas leaned down to her and his lips found hers. The kiss was a little too long, with a little too much need, but it made her flush brightly and beautifully.

            People behind them cheered and she pulled away from him to see all of them, tears running down her cheeks as she smiled at them and looked down, shyly. She was nervous, and happy, and he didn’t need the beast blood to know it.

            Vilkas took her hand and slipped her ring onto her finger. She smiled up at him and looked down at the golden band. Then Aela took her bouquet, and Neriasa grasped his hand and pushed his ring into place. As soon as it was set, she sighed in relief and she glanced up into Vilkas’s ocean blue eyes, smiling.

 

 

            Vilkas ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots tightly as he shook his leg. Farkas touched his shoulder and he resisted swatting at the hand.

            Neriasa screamed again and his head snapped up.

            “She’s doing fine, brother,” the other twin said and but it didn’t make him feel any better. “She is a small woman, and bares a strong, nord child…”

            He hated what he’d done to his Neriasa. She had grown so swollen in her last month that she could barely stand. The baby within her would no doubt kill her if not for the priestesses and their magic. It didn’t stop her pain during birth, though, and that meant he had to sit outside the Harbinger’s chambers, listening to his wife’s screams.

            “I should be in there, with her.”

            “Women have been birthing since the beginning, what can you do for her?” Farkas frowned and Vilkas stood up, shaking his head.

            “I’m going to her side.”

            And he did. The moment he was settled in beside her she seemed to regain some strength. He circled his arm around her and held her as she tensed and screamed, her eyes squeezed shut, sweat dripping down from her face.

            Her hand held his and she gripped it tightly, to the point it hurt him, but he said nothing, watching her as she pushed their child from her body.

            The boy left her and she fell back into the bed. “You have a son,” the priestess said, holding the child, up while she cleaned him, allowing Vilkas to see him. The nord wiped his wife’s hair from her face, allowing her a moment to breath as he stood up and took his boy from the woman.

            The baby was a strange combination of nord and elf, his skin ashy with an underlying tan, and a dusting of dark, dark hair on his head. His face was round and his ears were pointed, his brow human with a thin, elf nose, and large, large eyes squeezed shut in the crying fit that arched his back.

            “Hush, my boy,” Vilkas whispered with a smile and used the silver cloth he was wrapped in to wipe his face clean of blood. “Korjer…”

            “Love…?”

            He turned and brought the bundle to Neriasa, climbing into bed beside her and allowing the baby to move over to her arms. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek and forehead.

            “He’s perfect, Vilkas,” she whispered and tears streamed down her cheeks.

            “Aye,” he held her close and looked at their baby as she moved him to her breast and allowed him to drink. He calmed, latching on just how Vilkas had several times, and it made him smile. She chided him for drinking from her, but he enjoyed it, and knew she did as well.

            “Korjer Vilkason,” she whispered, running her hand over the boy’s head.

            He opened his eyes and looked up at them both, one of his eyes the color of the ocean, calm and clear, but his right eye was different. Half of the iris was the same blue as the other, but the rest was crimson –blood in the waves.

            Neriasa kissed his forehead again and he closed his eyes. “Perfect,” she whispered and Vilkas nodded.

            “The both of you,” he promised and pressed his forehead into her temple. Then she tilted her face up and kissed him. Vilkas circled his arms around his Neriasa, his Korjer, his family. “I love you, both of you.”

            Neriasa leaned her cheek against his shoulder, and sighed. “I love you both, more than anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU! for reading! Commenting! Subscribing! Leaving kudos! It means so much to me! 
> 
> I also have 'Fall Out of Skyrim' if you didn't know –it is a crossover to Fallout, featuring Skaddi the nord Dragonborn, and the Sequel 'Steel Souls Consuming Dragon Fire' featuring Paladin Danse and a fellow BOS soldier in Skyrim! So if you want to just skip right back to Skyrim, you can see some more of Thorbjorn and Rothruin in that fic, though Neriasa and Vilkas are not canonically together there (Sorry). 
> 
> AGAIN! Thank you! for reading, commenting, kudos! Everything! It means so much! 
> 
>  
> 
> Have great days! I love you all! Come back and join me in another fic!


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